


The Disgraced Lord

by miss_aphelion



Category: Charmed
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Overprotective, Prophecy, Unchanged Future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 81,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_aphelion/pseuds/miss_aphelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever taught Chris how to lie. It was instinct, built in—assess the situation, talk your way out. Wyatt was always the honest one. It amused Chris, in a morbid sort of way, that Wyatt fought for evil with honor, whilst he fought for good in disgrace. It was enough to make him wonder if maybe Wyatt was right after all, and there weren't any such things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lord Christopher

**Author's Note:**

> This story is mostly about Chris Halliwell, who is easily my favorite Charmed character. His story and the questions we're still left with about the future he came from have always fascinated me, and I've read many many interpretations. As much as I loved them all, the ones I loved the most were always the ones where Wyatt became what he did out of love for his family.
> 
> So Wyatt does many evil things in this, but I'm not sure if I'd call him evil himself, though he's definitely getting close. In any case, this story is about Chris and Wyatt as brothers, and how the both of them are trying to hold onto that while everything around them is falling apart.

They were having their usual Sunday dinner, when it happened. 

Wyatt was late, which was typical, so they had already begun to eat. Then the walls started to shudder, with such an ominous thrum riding past all the windows that Chris was surprised when not one of them broke. They parted the curtains and that was when they saw the sky had gone dark, with wide, flat storm clouds blocking out most of the sun. There was just enough light left to glance the off the outlines of the dragons that were gliding past the suburban streets, looking just exactly as if they belonged there. 

They called for Leo first, but he never came. They tried Wyatt desperately, but there was no answer. None of the doors would open, none of the windows would open, and no spell they tried would let them out. 

The house across the street disappeared in a rush of fire and smoke, but nothing touched them. Debris bounced off the manor with a blue tinged glow and just ricocheted straight off. 

That was when Chris knew. 

The rest of the family kept rushing around, up into the attic and back to the kitchen, down to the basement and up again—searching for texts or spells or potions that would get them out, that would save them, save the world. They called for Leo every few minutes, for Wyatt with every other breath. 

Chris just stood there by the window, watching the destruction. He knew there was nothing they could do, and he knew Wyatt would not answer their calls. 

Because the only one that could have done this was Wyatt himself. 

They weren't trapped here just so they couldn't help, they were trapped here so they'd be safe. Wyatt had locked them all up out of the way, and then set out to destroy everything else.

Chris looked out at the raging storm, at the broken innocents and their terror, and all he could think was this was Wyatt's pain, come to life. Come to haunt all the rest of them. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

They were locked in the house for three weeks before Wyatt came for them. They had been rationing food since the beginning, but there was nothing left by the time he got there. They'd given most of it to the little kids, and Chris had refused to eat the last week. He knew his aunts and uncles probably hadn't anything substantial in even longer than that. 

They were weakened and tired and distraught, and that was when Wyatt came. Chris knew it had been a calculated move on his part. He watched Wyatt shimmer into existence and it occurred to him then that maybe he should have warned them. 

He had told no one of his suspicions. He'd let them worry over Wyatt this whole time because somehow that had seemed better. That still left them hope, which Chris had lost. 

There was no hope now, no making this better. It was time for damage control. 

"Wyatt," Phoebe said with relief, jumping to her feet to greet him. She didn't seem to notice or care that he hadn't orbed in, but shimmered. She reached out and grabbed him in a hug, and Wyatt let her do it, with a strange, flat smile that set Chris's teeth on edge. 

This wasn't his brother. It couldn't be. Chris went through possibilities: possession? corruption? a spell? 

He couldn't understand how no one else _noticed_. 

"I'm glad you are all safe," Wyatt said, so oddly formally that Chris had to catch his breath. It was like he was acting in a play, rehearsing a part. Chris narrowed his eyes as he edged across the room. 

Paige was always more practical than Phoebe, so she was standing back, assessing Wyatt and his new clothes. He was head to toe in black—admittedly, these days he usually was, but there was something different about this. Chris watched the way the light hit the edge of his shirt, reflecting off it strangely, shimmering and painting it red. Like it was soaked in dried blood. 

Henry, always the cop, was putting the pieces together fast. Chris watched as things began to take shape in his mind, as he stood to make sure he kept the kids behind him. Paige stepped awkwardly up beside him, following his cues, coming to her own conclusions. 

"Wyatt, what have you done?" 

Chris startled at the voice, turning to see his cousin Prue, Phoebe's oldest daughter, looking at Wyatt in disbelief. She was an empath too, a stronger one even than Phoebe, though the trade-off was that it was the only power she had. She looked a little sick, like she was getting a read on Wyatt through whatever blocks he had up, and wasn't liking what she'd found. 

Wyatt's eyes sought Chris as he gave his answer, though it was Prue who had asked. "I have avenged our parents," he said. "And brought order to the world." 

"Oh my god," Phoebe gasped, her voice ending on a sob. She reached out with one hand to grab Coop. "Oh my god." 

"No, you wouldn't do that," Paige said, but her voice was steel, like she already knew he could. "The Wyatt I know would never do that." 

"I am the Wyatt you know," Wyatt said, pulling his eyes from Chris. "We no longer have anything to fear in this world. I have ended the reign of the Elders, of their guard dogs, the Cleaners. I have burned their Tribunal to dust." 

"So many people, so many innocents," Phoebe said, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't understand. I don't understand how you could do something this evil." 

Wyatt stepped forward and knelt in front of her, his expression almost kind. "There is no such thing as good and evil," he said, as though explaining something to a child. "They're just fairytales we tell ourselves to give us reason for things we've done. If the fighting is ever to end, we need to rise above that." 

"What do you mean by that?" Phoebe asked. "Who told you that? Of course there's good, Wyatt, you've seen it, you must have—" 

Wyatt just watched her with something like pity, and Chris could see that there was nothing they could say. Their reasoning would not work, because Wyatt was too far gone in his delusions. Chris had to discard his theories, because he could still see his brother somewhere beneath all of this façade. This wasn't possession or some spell, as much as he had wanted it to be. 

"You bastard," Paige snarled, before raising a hand. "Table!" 

She orbed the table into Wyatt, knocking him back from Phoebe. He only got hit a few feet away, and his eyes flashed as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. 

"You're going to undo this," Paige said. "Whatever it is you've done. You're going to undo it." 

"What's done cannot be undone," Wyatt said. 

"Don't you quote Shakespeare at me," Paige said, looking angrier than Chris had ever seen her. "Your mother must be rolling in her grave." 

It was the wrong thing to say. Chris knew that whatever else had happened, Wyatt had loved their mother. He had adored her every bit as much Chris. He had been devastated every bit as much as him. But where Chris had internalized his pain, Wyatt had let his loose on the world. 

He could see an energy ball forming in Wyatt's hand, his eyes going unnaturally bright, and Chris knew it was time to act. He could throw Wyatt back with his power, but knew he could never win in a fight. He wasn't prepared for a battle, and even if he were, he didn't want to hurt his brother. 

He had to buy them time. 

Chris smoothly stepped into Wyatt's line of sight, putting himself between Wyatt and the rest of their family. "It's no use, Wyatt," he said softly. "They'll never understand." 

Wyatt closed his palm and the energy ball sparked out of existence. He watched Chris carefully, uncertain what he was planning. Wyatt knew Chris had a tendency to play both sides. He'd been an expert at it with their parents. 

"They don't know anything but this," Chris continued, not breaking eye contact. "Good and Evil."

"And you do?" Wyatt asked, and his voice was gruff, almost dismissive, but Chris could see the hope threaded beneath it. 

"Yes," Chris said simply. "I understand why you've done this." 

"You say you understand," Wyatt said, as he carefully got to his feet. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you agree. You forget I know how you play with words." 

"If you want words, then listen to these," Chris said. "They aren't a threat to you, so let's just leave them to their lives. We don't need them." 

"We," Wyatt said with a smirk, looking pleased. "Well then, little brother, how about you? What do you believe in?" 

"I believe in you," Chris said, without flinching. And like all the best lies, it was even almost true. 

Wyatt laughed and reached out and grabbed him. The last thing Chris heard before they shimmered away were the outraged cries of his family. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

"This can't be happening," Phoebe said. "This seriously can't be happening. They couldn't just—" 

"Didn't you feel him, mom?" Prue asked. "Wyatt's gone. It's like he's a black hole. He's just gone. We have to save Chris." 

"Save Chris?" Paige sneered. She was trying to focus on her tasks—she had already put up an anti-orbing field, along with any other protection fields she could think of. "Chris is just as lost to us as Wyatt, or weren't you here for that?" 

"Yes, I was here for that, though I seem to be the only one that understands what just happened," Prue yelled back. "Wyatt was about to kill you." 

"Wyatt wouldn't—" Paige started.

"Wyatt was about to _kill you_ ," Prue repeated slowly. "And Chris stopped him. That's what I saw." 

"He was siding with his brother," Paige said, though all her anger seemed to have deflated. "You know how close they are." 

"That's not it at all," Prue said. "Don't you get it? Chris made a trade, him for the rest of us!" 

"He said he understood Wyatt," Phoebe said uncertainly. "He went with him." 

"He was lying!" Prue shouted. "It's practically his superpower." 

"She has a point," Henry said. "And before Chris stepped in, I’m not sure…well, it didn't look like Wyatt was just going to let us all walk away." 

"Yes, thank you," Prue said. 

"It doesn't matter," Phoebe said softly. "Even if it's true, even if he's only stalling to give us time, it doesn't matter. We can't save him now he's with Wyatt, we can barely save ourselves." 

"We can contact him, at least. We can call for him," Prue protested. "You have to lift the blocks so he can reach us." 

"We can't take that chance, honey," Phoebe insisted. "If Chris is with Wyatt, well he's powerful too. We don't have any hope of stopping the two of them together without a plan, not without the power of three." 

"Phoebe's right," Paige said. "We've got to get the kids somewhere safe, and then we'll figure out a game plan." 

"This isn't fair," Prue shouted. "You can't just abandon him! He's only a year older than me. Would you abandon me?" 

"You didn't go with him," Coop pointed out gently.

"I would have, if I'd thought of it first," Prue said, before dropping down on the couch, angrily turning away from her family. 

"I'm not saying we're not going to save him," Paige said carefully. "Because we will. We're going to save them both. We just have to be smart about it." 

"You still don't get it," Prue said quietly. "He's the one that's saving us."

X l X l X l X l X

_Two years later_

No one ever taught Chris how to lie. It was instinct, built in—assess the situation, talk your way out. Wyatt was always the honest one. It amused Chris, in a morbid sort of way, that Wyatt fought for evil with honor, whilst he fought for good in disgrace. It was enough to make him think maybe Wyatt was right after all, and there weren't any such things.

But then he'd think of his mother, and he'd know. There had to be good in this world or he never would have had her, and without evil he never would have lost her. 

He knew he had to be strong. Not like Wyatt was strong, not with power, because that was never his greatest strength. Chris was a chameleon. 

So he became Lord Christopher. 

He went with Wyatt to his palace underneath the world, deep down where their family could not find them. He helped him slay his demons, helped reinforce his power. He stood by his side, under Wyatt's watchful gaze, and he played his part. 

And then he became Perry, and began to play another. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"Happy birthday, little brother." 

Chris didn't bother to turn around. "You know I don't celebrate this day," he said quietly. 

"But I want to," Wyatt said. "So we will." 

Chris glanced towards him, pulling his eyes from the window. Chris had once complained about the view, and had woken the next morning to find Wyatt had enchanted all of the windows to look out on green fields, with white-peaked mountains in the distance. Chris couldn't decide if this was better or if it was worse. 

Wyatt held out a small wrapped present, and Chris took it without comment. Wyatt almost seemed to fawn over him, at times. Showering him with strange little presents or bizarre gifts that Chris never wanted but didn't dare refuse. They never came without a price—Chris had spent more than a few nights in Wyatt's dungeons, over vague little slights. 

He'd learned to pick his battles. He would pretend to enjoy his birthday, and maybe Wyatt wouldn't notice when two of his prisoners disappeared in the middle of the night. 

He unwrapped the silver bow and lifted the lid of the box. He froze when he saw what it held inside. It was just a small amulet, a little blue stone. It looked simple, but it was actually a very intricate little key. 

"I thought it was time you were able to orb in and out," Wyatt said, grinning slyly, looking pleased with himself. 

Wyatt gave very few the power to come and go from his palace by magical means, only granting it to one or two of his most trusted demons. He had never allowed Chris that freedom. He'd just laugh any time that he asked, claiming it was for his own protection. He'd never been allowed to leave without Wyatt. 

_"It's not that I don't trust you,"_ he would whisper, with a smirk. 

Chris had found ways around his restrictions easily enough, but this would help. This might make the difference, so long as Wyatt wasn't still watching his every move. Wyatt's own whitelighter powers had faded almost out of existence, so he might not be able to track him. Not accurately. 

"Thank you," he said, rolling the stone in the palm of his hand. He glanced up. "Does this mean I no longer have a curfew?" 

"You are eighteen," Wyatt said. "But if you starting making trouble I'll take it away." 

Wyatt said it gently, like a father threatening to take the keys to the car. But Chris knew if he got into trouble he'd be facing something much worse than that. Wyatt had learned pretty early on that Chris could take his punishments with grace—but then he'd learned the trick of making others suffer in his place. 

"That doesn't sound like me at all," Chris said, smiling slightly as he turned back to the window. "I hope you're not planning a surprise party. You know I tend to vanquish demons when they jump out at me." 

"It is a bad habit of yours," Wyatt agreed. "And no, I have a much better surprise for you. Come with me." 

It wasn't a request, so Chris stood. 

Wyatt led him to one of the restricted wings. He had not allowed even Chris to follow him here before now. They entered a large ballroom, with a high vaulted ceiling, majestic though it looked rusted. Beauty never lasted in the Underworld very long. 

Wyatt waved his hand and a doorway appeared at the other end of the hall. He grinned at Chris. "Come," he said simply. 

The first year, Chris would have snapped at him that he wasn't his dog. But since then he's learned when to hold his tongue. 

He would still antagonize Wyatt the way only a little brother could, when the mood was right, when Wyatt wanted it. He just had to be careful not to do it when anyone else was there, or Wyatt was too deep in thought to remember that used to be who they were. 

"Chris," Wyatt said impatiently. 

Chris followed him quickly into the room. The ceilings here were the same, though they seemed to be holding up a bit better. There was a mural painted across the ceiling like something from the Sistine Chapel. At first he could only see the white and the red, the slips of light and color. Then he realized what it was. 

The massacre of the Elders. 

And laid out beneath it, on a podium in the middle of the room, was the Book of Shadows. 

It was so incongruous that Chris felt his breath catch. He didn't know if Wyatt had placed it here, in this room, as an act of defiance or revenge. The Elders had tried to take the Book from Wyatt, and he'd killed them all. 

Chris hadn't been this close to the book since long before then. He could feel its magic wrapping around him, calling him closer. 

"May I?" Chris asked, glancing over to Wyatt for permission. 

Wyatt laughed slightly and waved his hand towards the book. "It is why I brought you here." 

Chris stepped up the podium. He remembered sneaking out of his room at night just to flip through these pages. Three of the spells inside were his, all written before he turned fourteen. 

He hesitantly reached out and ran his fingers across the cover, feeling along the groves of the broken triquetra. He could feel the magic respond to him at once, coming alive beneath his fingertips. The triquetra let out a slight glow, vibrating for a moment before laying still. 

"It doesn't do that for me," Wyatt said, though he sounded interested more than angry. "I wonder why that is." 

Chris figured it was because the book was made up of good magic, and it would fight against Wyatt's change even if it wouldn't reject him entirely. But that wasn't what Wyatt would want to hear. 

"Maybe it's because we're here together," Chris said, glancing up at him.

Wyatt laughed. "You always know exactly the right thing to say," he said. "It makes me wonder if I can trust anything you say at all." 

"You would prefer I make you mad?" Chris asked. "Because I'm pretty good at that too." 

"That you are," he agreed with a laugh. "This probably goes without saying, but this book doesn't leave the room." 

"Can I come here?" Chris asked, turning to follow Wyatt as he paced around the podium. "I mean, by myself?" 

"Yes," Wyatt said. "So long as it stays here, I don't see any harm. You already have the whole thing memorized in any case." 

"It's not the same," Chris said, lifting a hand and flicking a finger to flip the page. "This is all we have left of them." 

"We have the manor," Wyatt reminded him. 

Chris gave a bitter laugh. "A ridiculous tourist trap," he said, "for mortals too hopeless to realize what any of it means. You've made a mockery of everything they stood for." 

"Ah," Wyatt said dangerously. "And there's the other side to your silver tongue. You know very well why I had to do that." 

"You did it for power," Chris said, glancing up. "Just like you do everything. But it's given you less, not more. I tried to tell you that then." 

"Perhaps you're right," Wyatt said. "But it hardly matters now. There's no going back home, Christopher." 

Chris shut the book with a wave of his hand. "No, I don't suppose there is." He looked over at Wyatt. "But would you, if you could?" 

"No," Wyatt said simply. "Let's go. You can play with the book later." 

Wyatt marched out of the room and Chris stepped back from the podium. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up and spun around, his eyes crawling up to the ceiling where the Elders were drawn along the tiles. He wondered who Wyatt had gotten to paint this—their faces, their expressions, were terrified but perfectly cast. He could recognize almost every single one of them as people he'd known. 

He was just turning to leave when he glimpsed something out of place. One of the elders was smiling, even as he held his burned out chest, and his sparkling eyes followed Chris from the room. 

Chris was pretty sure his name had been Gideon. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

Wyatt had kept Chris close the entire day. They'd had lunch together, and then Wyatt had a clan of demon girls, shape-shifters, transform into exotic dancers to perform for them. Chris had slouched in the seat and pretended to be interested, pretended that he couldn't see them for what they really were, like there wasn't a horn-edged silhouette laid to the left of their skin. 

Wyatt was trying, he guessed. 

But Chris couldn't care less that this was the day he was turning eighteen. He had a mission tonight, and it wasn't the time to get distracted. Two Resistance team leaders had been caught, and they were too valuable to lose. So Chris had been plotting to get them out. 

He glanced at the round blue key hanging around his neck, and a new plan began to form. Why save only two? he wondered. There were another hundred and forty-five innocent prisoners in Wyatt's dungeons, some of them children. 

Chris had struck a bargain with Wyatt at the beginning of all of this, that he would only stay so long as Wyatt didn't slaughter innocents. Wyatt had agreed in only one sense—he wouldn't harm those that he believed to be innocent, and Chris had found their opinions on the matter were not similar at all. 

Most mortals were safe, of course. There were some areas of the world where you could almost believe that nothing had changed. Wyatt had a taste for theatrics—he liked to build museums in his honor, statues of himself like he's King. He didn't bother those that worshipped him. 

Witches were another matter, because Wyatt didn't see them as neutral. He saw them as a threat. So they either joined or they were tried with treason, and tossed in the dungeons until they either conceded or Wyatt felt they'd served their purpose and ordered them killed. 

The count was up to a hundred forty seven with the two Resistance members, and that wasn't acceptable. Chris never liked just disappearing with one or two prisoners at a time. He wanted to save them all. 

"What are you thinking of, little brother?" Wyatt asked quietly. 

Chris glanced over at him, grateful that for all of Wyatt's many powers, telepathy had never been one of them. 

"Mom," he said, and it was true, because she was in everything she did. She was the reason he hadn't given in. 

"I think she would have been happy here," Wyatt said. 

"She would have grounded you for life," Chris laughed. 

Wyatt smiled softly, and it looked nearly genuine. "Yes, you're right," he said. "But she would have been safe." 

Chris sighed and looked back towards the stage, back to those dancers and their ridiculous spectacle. "Are you happy, Wy?" he asked quietly. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wyatt asked. 

"They say it's lonely at the top," Chris told him wryly, turning his head back to watch him. 

"That's what I keep you around for," Wyatt said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to drag Chris up. "Come on. We're having dinner." 

"All this and dinner too?" Chris asked. "Please tell me you didn't cook." 

"I hope you're not insinuating that I'm less than perfect at something," Wyatt said, but this time the dangerous edge to his voice was playful. 

"I certainly didn't mean to," Chris said. "I rather meant to say it outright." 

Wyatt was relaxed for once, natural with him in a way he hadn't been for years. He was also distracted, which was why he didn't notice when one of the dancers didn't disappear with all the rest. Chris frowned as he saw her reach for something at her waist: an athame. 

Chris reacted before he knew what he was doing. He waved a hand to knock Wyatt out of the way, before standing in his place and lifting his other hand to stop the athame in its tracks. He held it suspended for a moment, before flicking his wrist and sending it into the wall. He stepped towards the assassin, trying to reach her before she fled, but felt himself getting dragged back. 

He felt all the air go out of him as he hit the back wall hard, and glanced up in disbelief to see Wyatt glaring at him. "Stay back," Wyatt snarled, before turning his attention to the assassin. 

Chris narrowed his eyes and started to step forward again, only to find Wyatt had trapped him against the wall with a fragment of his shield. "Wyatt!" he shouted. 

Wyatt ignored him, twisting his hand to catch onto the assassin before she could reach the door and then pushing out to slam her against the ceiling. Chris could see her reaching for her throat, and knew just what Wyatt was doing. He'd found himself in a similar position himself, once or twice, though Wyatt had never looked nearly as angry with him as he did with her. 

"What is your name, assassin?" he demanded. 

She didn't respond and Chris watched as all the color disappeared from her. He wasn't sure exactly what Wyatt was doing to her, but it wasn't anything good. 

"I said give me your name!" Wyatt shouted, before lifting a hand and forming an energy ball. He wasted no time in sending it straight at her shoulder. 

Her clothes burned to shreds and her skin blackened, but Chris could see the blood gathering up beneath it. His breath caught. 

"Wyatt," he tried again. "Wyatt, stop! She's not a demon!" 

Wyatt pulled his hand back, dragging the woman down from the ceiling and pulling her closer until she was on her knees before him. Chris pushed at the shield in irritation, but he knew he wasn't going anywhere until Wyatt wanted him to. 

"Demons come in many forms, little brother," Wyatt told him, not taking his eyes from the woman. "She is a Phoenix, and close enough. Who hired you?" 

"I will tell you nothing," she said. 

"They all say that," Wyatt said, his sneer morphing into a wide, easy grin. It made him look far more terrifying. 

Chris watched as she reached for something with her hand, and prepared to warn his brother until he realized the weapon was not for Wyatt. He'd seen what Wyatt had done to those he tortured. He closed his mouth and said nothing as she broke the potion against the ground beside her. 

A fire flared up around her along the floor. Her scream echoed through the hall, piercing his ears as it cut off unnaturally. She burned to death in seconds, leaving nothing but ashes as the fire burnt itself out. 

Wyatt glared at the floor where she had been. "I wasn't done with her," he snarled. 

Chris knew that however painful that death might have been, Wyatt would have done much worse to her. "Are you going to let me out now?" Chris demanded. "Wyatt!" 

Wyatt waved a hand dismissively and the shield disappeared. Chris glanced towards the doorway when he felt he was being watched, and saw one of the palace guards step straight back into the shadows. She was one that he knew well. Wyatt had appointed her as his bodyguard back at the beginning—his babysitter, if you'd asked her. 

She was the toughest person he knew, and for some reason she was crying. 

Chris pulled his eyes away before Wyatt could see what had drawn his attention. Wyatt never looked kindly on emotions being displayed, especially not by his personal guard. 

Chris just couldn't understand what could have possibly happened that could make Bianca cry.

"And you," Wyatt snarled suddenly, spinning around and grabbing his wrist, shimmering them both out of the room. 

Chris came back to himself feeling nauseous, his vision blacking out around the edges. He never could handle shimmering. "Wyatt, what—" 

Wyatt pulled a chair up behind Chris and pushed him into it, letting go of his wrist only to cage him in with both his hands on the arms of the chair. Chris swallowed as he realized they were in Wyatt's office, where Chris was only ever brought to be lectured or punished. 

"I need you to listen to me very carefully," Wyatt said, his voice so controlled that Chris wouldn't have dreamed of doing anything else. "Never get between me and an attack again." 

His voice was so laced through with cold that Chris almost missed what was beneath it. Fear. 

Except that nothing scared Wyatt. 

"You didn't see her," Chris said defensively. "I was only—" 

"I can take care of myself," Wyatt told him, pushing away in frustration. "You're the one that's vulnerable. You won't do it again." 

Chris glared up at him defiantly. "If you think I'm just gonna stand by while someone is trying to kill you—" 

"You will do as I say, or I will assign guards to ensure it," Wyatt shouted. 

"Fine," Chris said smoothly, but Wyatt just narrowed his eyes, spotting the lie. 

"This is the third assassin this month," Wyatt said, his voice playing now at being gentle. "I'm not worried about them getting near me, but eventually they're going to wise up and realize you're my weakness." 

"Gee, thanks, Wy," Chris said. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?" 

"You know what I mean," Wyatt said in frustration. "They will use you to get to me. I can't allow that. I need you to stay in the palace for now. I can't have you wandering around the underworld." 

Chris's eyes widened as he realized what Wyatt was implying. "No!" he snapped. "No, I'm not giving it back. You just gave it to me and I haven't even used it yet!" 

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "You can keep the key for now," he said. "But you must promise to go nowhere without me." 

"I promise," Chris said easily. 

Wyatt reached out and grabbed his chin roughly, his fingers digging into his skin as he turned Chris's head up to meet his eyes. "Christopher." 

"I promise!" Chris insisted. 

Chris felt a burst of warmth right before Wyatt let him go, as his brother healed the bruises before they could even form. For all the battles he'd been in, Chris still didn't have a single scar on him. He'd received any number of wounds, some of them from Wyatt himself, but he never let him keep the evidence. 

_"Some say scars are important,"_ Wyatt had told him once. _"A sign of power, a sign they've survived. But we're not just powerful, we're untouchable, and there's never going to be a single mark on either of us. Never forget that, brother. It sets us apart."_

It was one of Wyatt's many contradictions. 

"Go get some sleep," Wyatt said tiredly. 

Chris didn't have to be told twice. He orbed away before his brother could change his mind, and take the key back. Chris had plans—and it wouldn't do to be without it now. 

X l X l X l X l X

Wyatt shimmered at the foot of an altar. He glanced around, tracing the shadows that the hundreds of small candles had sent flickering across the walls. He found what he was looking for at the other end of the room. 

"Has it changed?" Wyatt asked softly.

The woman stepped forward. Her hair was braided all down her back, and her eyes were solid black. She stepped closer deftly, though she could not see the room in any ordinary sense. 

"The future I've seen for your brother remains the same," she told him, her voice indifferent. "He will die to save you." 

Wyatt screamed in frustration, throwing his hand out to send a table crashing into the wall. "I should have known better than to trust a promise from him," he snarled. "He's defiant to the end, just like our mother. But I will not allow him to suffer the same fate." 

The Prophetess had first informed him of his brother's impending death a year ago. He had enlisted every seer he could find since then to tell him his brother's fate, but none could see it but her. He had wondered at first if she was playing him, making herself important, making herself indispensable. But he'd tested her resolve in his dungeons and knew she wouldn't lie to him now. 

He had to face the truth. A prophet could see further than any seer—they were the ones that wrote the prophecies, laid out the futures. One just like her had christened him twice-blessed. The trade-off of their power was that they riddled their responses, only offering a guideline, instead of the full picture. 

"And you have seen nothing else?" Wyatt demanded. He didn't have enough to go on, and he knew even he couldn't keep Chris constantly under watch. Chris would grow suspicious of his reasons, eventually, and rebel. 

"There was a child with him," she said after a moment. "And an Elder." 

"The Elders are dead," Wyatt told her. 

"It is what I have seen," she said calmly, her strange blank gaze not wavering from his. 

"And where the hell am I?" he demanded. "Where are his guards? How is it he's saving me if I'm not even there?" 

"You know very well what I've told you," she said. "You've gone over it a thousand times. I can tell you nothing else." 

Wyatt turned away in frustration. He knew the prophecy as she saw it. Chris would die slowly from the strike of a cursed athame, to save Wyatt's life. 

"I want him guarded," Wyatt told her. "At all times. Send Bianca, she knows most of the tricks he uses to avoid being watched. She's always been able to keep better track of him than the others." 

"Yes, my lord," she said. She paused for a moment, and then stepped closer. "There is one more thing that I have seen." 

Wyatt narrowed his eyes, closing the distance between them. "Why do you hesitate?" he demands. 

"Because I do not yet know what it means," she said. 

"Tell me what you've seen," he demanded. 

"He is only a bit older, perhaps just a couple years," she said. "And he is soaked in the tears of the youngest Charmed One." 

"Paige?" Wyatt said, his voice catching. He turned away quickly, regretting the weakness. Paige was always a concern. She had made her position against him very clear. He didn't want to think she would have anything to do with the death of his brother, but he couldn't discount it. 

"It does not matter in any case," he decided. "You said yourself the future is uncertain. I'll change it." 

"I said that his future was unclear," she corrected. "It is certain." 

"No one is taking my brother from me," Wyatt told her, his quiet voice echoing off the walls, spinning around them like a promise. 

He had lost his mother to a violent death, and his father to revenge. Leo had scoured the underworld looking for the demons responsible for his mother's death, and was abandoned by the elders when he refused to give up his quest. They stripped him of his powers and left him defenseless, like a lamb to the slaughter. 

The rest of his family had been hiding from him these last two years. He'd been disowned, he knew. He'd lost all of them, in one way or another. All of them but Chris. 

"Tell me again, prophetess," Wyatt said softly. "Does my brother love me?" 

"My lord," she said easily. "If in my vision he had loved you any less, he would have lived." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

There was a system of tunnels threaded throughout Wyatt's palace like veins of blood. They were built of cobbled stones and magic, and the only ones that could see them were the ones that Wyatt had said couldn't leave. 

They were, Chris thought, his greatest accomplishment. 

He had been using the tunnels these last two years to slip out from his brother's watch, and to free prisoners from his dungeons. There was no check in system for prisoners—it was one of Wyatt's very few oversights, considering how thoroughly he had thought through everything else. He simply had witches found by his probes rounded up and locked away. 

When one or two went missing, every other night, no one seemed to notice. Not even the other prisoners. 

It was the safe way to go about it, but it was a losing battle. For every two that Chris saved, Wyatt had already rounded up five more. It was one of the only things that they ever fought about anymore. 

Chris had even begged Wyatt to give them the choice of stripping their powers, so they could join the mortal world. But Wyatt wouldn't condone such a loss of power—he wanted their powers for himself. 

Chris just wanted to save them, but he knew he'd never be able to do it through the tunnels, as useful as they were. It took half the night to wind their way around the maze he'd had to build to keep them from being discovered, and leading over a hundred half-starved exhausted refugees through them would be a surefire way to get them all caught. 

But now he had a key, a way to orb from here to the world above, without needing to make any stops in-between. 

He orbed from his room, appearing in the halls right above the dungeons. He would have to wait until Wyatt had gone to his room for the night to start the rescue, but he wanted to make sure everything was in place. He glanced behind him once before turning towards the stairs that would take him below. 

He stuttered to a stop when he saw Bianca leaning up against the doorway. 

"And where do you think you're going?" she asked dryly. 

There was no trace of whatever had upset her earlier now. She looked like she was made of stone, her almost otherworldly beauty flawless but cold. 

"Am I not allowed in the dungeons now?" Chris asked. 

"If you're not careful," Bianca said, "you might find yourself there longer than you'd like. You know Lord Wyatt doesn't want you associating with the prisoners." 

Chris glared at her, but they both knew it was true. It wasn't exactly an order, but Wyatt had been less than pleased the time Chris had been injured sneaking food to prisoners. It had, Chris would admit, not been one of his finer moments. 

His brother had often warned him not to go near the witch-hunters—they were the only mortals that he kept here, but they were put in the worst conditions. There were no trials for them, no reprieves and no escape. _They are not even worth killing,_ Wyatt had told him, when Chris asked why he even bothered to keep them alive at all. 

Chris wasn't entirely sure if the witch-hunters had been driven mad within their prison or if they'd started out that way, but when he had gone to them, and tried to slip them food, he'd had his wrist slit open with a chiseled piece of bone. Trying to help them had been a little like trying to help a pack of rabid dogs. 

Chris had tried to hide the injury, but Wyatt had found out. He always did. 

"Why are you even here, Bianca?" Chris said. "I thought you'd moved onto bigger and better things than looking after me?" 

"I was ordered to watch you," she said, glancing away. "And what Wyatt wants, Wyatt gets, isn't that right?" 

Chris leaned back against the wall in frustration. If Wyatt had sent one of his demons to watch him, he could have just vanquished them, and apologized to his brother for it later, claiming it was a misunderstanding. Chris never could bring himself to hurt Bianca, and wasn't even sure if he actually could. 

It was, he thought wryly, probably the very reason that his brother had sent her.

"Well, I won't tell if you won't," Chris tried wearily. "What do you say we just go our separate ways?" 

Chris waited for her response, but it never came. He pushed away from the wall, turning to face her in concern. She was looking away from him, her eyes shining brightly, her hands clenched at her sides. When she finally looked back towards him she looked strangely furious. 

"Fine," she said. "Do what you want, I don't care." 

She moved faster than he could follow, and he was right back against the wall, with her pressed against him. She had her forearm locked against his throat, holding him in place. Chris swallowed anxiously, though he didn't think she'd hurt him. 

"Just promise me something," Bianca said. "If you're getting out of this godforsaken place, don't come back." 

"Bianca—" Chris started, breaking off as she let him go, stepping away and putting her mask right back into place. 

"If you're half as smart as you pretend, you'll get out," Bianca told him. "We both know you don't belong here." 

Chris took a step towards her but she shimmered out before he could reach her. He cursed, running a hand a through his hair in irritation. He wanted to follow her, but he knew he couldn't. His contact was waiting for him below, and he didn't have any room here for error. 

He let out a breath and then spun on his heel, taking the steps to the dungeon two at a time. There was a man waiting for him at the bottom of the steps—dressed head to toe in black, a worn, scuffed up crossbow hanging loosely from his hand. He looked every inch the darklighter. 

Chris laughed. "Daniel," he said. "That's a good look for you." 

"Don't you start," Daniel complained. "I feel so dirty." 

Daniel was one of the only whitelighters still around. Most survived the massacre of the elders, but nearly all of them disappeared right after. They either ascended off into the after life or gone into hiding, most of them were no help at all. 

Daniel had pushed past his pacifist ways to try and make a difference. He didn't do anything like a normal whitelighter—because Chris couldn't think of any other whitelighter, except perhaps his own father, that would have ever thought to go undercover as a darklighter. 

Daniel reminded him so much like the stories his mother used to tell him of Leo, even though the man himself had never quite measured up to them. 

"Is everything on track?" he asked. 

"Yes," Daniel said. "I was able to contact Marc and Grace. They're ready to get out of here whenever you are. What about the guards?" 

"I'll vanquish them," Chris said easily. "I can't risk them reporting back to my brother." 

"And the demon prisoners?" Daniel asked. 

"Them too," Chris said. "Unless you think there are any that might be useful?" 

"Only useful demon is a dead demon," Daniel said. 

"I think I've corrupted you," Chris said, grinning widely. 

Daniel rolled his eyes, and then glanced away awkwardly. "I wanted to tell you, before we get too deep in the mission to talk," he started slowly. "I heard news of your family. They're all fine, but they're, ah, they're looking for you." 

Chris closed his eyes for a moment, before shaking his head with a bitter laugh. "For me, or Perry?" 

"You're the same person," Daniel said hesitantly. 

"Answer the question," Chris said. 

"Perry," Daniel said. "They want to join up." 

"No," Chris said. 

"Chris—" 

"It isn't safe for them," Chris said. "And it isn't safe for the rest of you. Wyatt would bring his wrath down on us all if he found out they'd joined the resistance." 

"You’re the boss, boss," Daniel said. "But we sure could use a few more Halliwells." 

"We've been doing just fine without them," Chris insisted. "And that reminds me, there's been a bit of a change in plans." 

"Oh?" Daniel prompted. 

"Yes," Chris said. "We're not just getting Marc and Grace out. We'll be taking everyone." 

Daniel just stared at him for a moment, his eyes going wide. "You want to run that by me again?" he asked. "Because it sounded to me like you were talking crazy." 

"You heard me right," Chris said. "I can't leave them there any longer. There are children locked up down there, and I can't—I have a way." He held up the amulet as evidence of the plan. "I've thought it through. I'm getting them out." 

"Well you need to rethink it," Daniel said urgently. "I want to get those people out of here just as much as you, but if you do this, Wyatt will suspect you. He's going to find you out. And if we lose you—" 

"This is a hundred forty six lives," Chris said. "What's my life against that?" 

"You know very well it's not that simple," he hissed. "You do more good here than most of us can hope to do on our little raids. You're the one keeping us hidden. But you can't save any of us if you can't save yourself." 

"He wouldn't have given me the key if he didn't trust me," Chris said. 

"And what if it's a test?" he demanded. "What if he gave you that just to see what you would do?" 

"Then I guess I'm going to fail," Chris said, and started back up the stairs. "Get ready for tonight. We're doing this." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris knew that his plan was a good one. Even if he could only orb out five prisoners at a time, he'd have time to take them all. The demons would be easy to kill, almost too easy. Chris almost felt bad about killing them sometimes, because almost of all of them were too terrified to fight back. They knew very well what Wyatt would do them if they hurt his brother. 

The one unknown factor to his plan was Wyatt. 

Paige had once called Wyatt a livewire. It used to be a sort of nickname she had for him, back when it was funny. But it was true—that's what he was. Chris knew he was powerful himself, and he had seen the three sisters back when his mother was still alive, felt the power of the Charmed Ones. 

And still, it was nothing next to Wyatt. 

Wyatt had power coming out of his pores. Chris could feel it whenever they were close, like there were little sparks coming off his skin. He had tried to explain it to Wyatt once, and Wyatt had laughed and told him, that's how all power felt to him. Wyatt could sense magic, could keep track of it or reroute it or stop it in its tracks. 

Chris was afraid if he used the key to get every last prisoner out, Wyatt would feel it for sure. He would sense the whitelighter magic if nothing else, even as weakened as his whitelighter senses were. 

Chris knew the only way he was going to succeed was if he took Wyatt out of play. 

Chris had never used magic against his brother, except for maybe a little telekinesis in one of their scuffles. He had thought about it, back at the beginning. He thought of calling for his family and trying to neutralize Wyatt with some kind of spell.

But his family had never answered him. They'd cloaked themselves completely, severed their connection without mercy. So as messed up as things were, Chris hadn't had anyone but Wyatt. And he couldn't stand the thought of losing him too. 

This was different. He couldn't be selfish now—too much depended on him. So he wrote a spell that would keep Wyatt out of his way for the night, one that he was hoping he'd never even notice. Chris knew he was the only one that might be able to make this work, because his magic was familiar to Wyatt, he trusted it. Chris just hoped he trusted it enough not to fight against it, because he was pretty sure Wyatt would win. 

Chris couldn't risk orbing directly into Wyatt's room, so he slipped out of his tunnels into the hall beside his rooms. He glanced both ways but didn't see anyone. Wyatt didn't trust his demons to guard him at night. Instead he protected himself against any enemies, sealing his room off magically. 

But he'd never thought to protect himself from Chris. 

Chris slipped into his bedroom. He'd worn socks but not shoes to keep from making a sound on the cold marble floor of his brother's room. The fireplace along the other wall was lit, the fire sparking madly, but magically contained. 

Chris felt a slight chill despite the warm air as he looked over Wyatt's room. It looked some kind of art deco hotel room, not a home. He still remembered the room they'd shared growing up—Wyatt had plastered posters all over the wall. 

He stopped beside the bed. Wyatt looked almost innocent in sleep, but he knew he couldn't falter now. Chris closed his eyes and began to speak. 

"On this night, ease my plight," he whispered. "Let my brother sleep until first light." 

Wyatt let out a low breath, shifting slightly to turn on his stomach. He didn't wake up. Chris backed away, hoping the magic would hold. He stilled when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up just in time to see the firelight bouncing off the hard edge of an athame. 

It had to be the luckiest assassin in the world, to have showed up now. Nothing but Halliwell magic could have rendered Wyatt vulnerable to this sort of attack. 

The figure took another step and Chris let out a half-formed sound of protest. It was Bianca. He pushed forward, orbing even as he moved, and slammed into her—he pulled them both away the moment they touched, spiriting them back into the hall. 

"What are you doing?" Chris hissed, when they reformed. "Have you completely lost your mind?" 

"I started to worry about you," Bianca said, and she sounded odd. "I came to find you and followed you here. And then I saw him, just laying there—" Bianca looked over at him, her eyes blazing. "You shouldn't have stopped me." 

"You were trying to kill my brother," he yelled. 

"I was trying to slay a monster!" Bianca protested at once. "Chris, please, look at me. I know you don't want what he wants. I know you don't. We could end this! You don't owe him anything. You don't have to save him." 

Chris swallowed hard and watched her. He'd never known she felt this way, she'd always been such a perfect soldier. He wanted to explain that he could no sooner kill Wyatt than he could kill himself. He wanted to make her understand that he loved Wyatt despite everything, that he'd tried to change that but couldn't. He loved him anyway. 

But Chris had learned that no one else could understand. The resistance begged him to kill Wyatt all of the time, and they were the best friends he had.

"I wasn't saving him, I was saving you!" Chris said instead, settling for a half-truth. "Did you really think you'd get to him? How do you think I even got you out before you could shimmer away from me? No magic works in that room but his. You would have been dead before you'd touched him." 

"So why stop my attempt?" Bianca demanded. "You want to help me?" 

"Help you kill him?" Chris demanded. "No, of course not. Help you not get yourself killed? Sure. It's not like I'm busy, thought it might be fun." 

Bianca paused, deep in thought, then she turned back to face him. "You said no magic works in his room but his, but that's not true, is it? Because yours did." 

"Our magic comes from the same place," Chris said dismissively. He didn't dare mention the spell he'd cast. She would run him through to get Wyatt if she knew. Chris had always known it was a risk to leave Wyatt vulnerable, but he hadn't thought there would be two assassination attempts in one day. He should have known better than that. 

"But it's more than that," Bianca says. "He trusts you." 

"If he trusts me, it's because he knows I'd never hurt him," Chris says. "And I won't." 

"Then you're no better than he is," she sneers. 

"I don't remember claiming that I was," Chris said evenly. 

"I've heard the rumors," Bianca said tightly. "People are starting to talk. They say you work for Perry." 

Chris laughed. "Is that what they say?" he asked. "What is it to you? You definitely don't work for Perry." 

"It was my mother," Bianca said quietly, her eyes turning defiant. For a moment Chris couldn't make sense of the non-sequitur, and then it clicked. 

The assassin from earlier. The _Phoenix_. Chris didn't know how he hadn't put this together before, except the woman had looked nothing like her. 

"I made a deal with Wyatt, to come here, to serve him in representation of my clan," she said. "He promised to leave the rest of them alone. But my mother never agreed with the deal. She wanted to free me." 

"So she tried to kill him," Chris realized. 

"And killed herself before she could give me away," Bianca agreed. "He probably would have killed me as well, if he'd known who she was." 

"I can't let you kill him," Chris said. "It's not that I think you could, but I don't want to watch someone else die in the attempt. Your mother wouldn't have wanted that." 

"What do you know about my mother?" Bianca snarled. 

"I know enough to know she risked everything to save you," Chris said evenly. "I'd hate to see you throw a sacrifice like that away." 

Bianca caught her breath, looking somewhere between furious and distraught. "You don't understand," she said. "You couldn't. Wyatt keeps you out of most of what he does. You don't know the half of it." 

"I know more than you think," Chris said. "Bianca, listen to me. I can't help you hurt Wyatt, but I can get you out. He gave me a key." 

"And where would I go?" Bianca demanded. "What place is left that he hasn't touched? There's nowhere." 

"There's the resistance," Chris said. 

"It's made up of children and old men," Bianca sneered. "They're Wyatt's leftovers. The ones he didn't care enough to recruit or kill." 

"You shouldn't underestimate them," he said. 

Bianca turned to look at him. "You really are working with them, aren't you?" she asked in disbelief. "Do you have any idea at all what your brother would do to you?" 

"I thought I was just as bad as him. Why do you care?" he asked, before wincing as he heard an insistent jingling, Daniel calling him. He had to hurry if he had any hope of getting those prisoners out before Wyatt woke up. "Please, just let me get you out of here." 

"You think I don't know what you're thinking, but I know you, Chris," Bianca said. "You could never hurt him. I know. I understand. So let me do it. Let me stop him once and for all. You won't have to do a thing." 

Some deep dark part of him was tempted. Chris had seen Wyatt do horrible, unforgivable things. He'd watched him practically burn the world, just so he could remake it again. 

"Do you really understand?" Chris asked quietly. "Because I don't think you do. It's not because I'm noble. It's not out of some thou shalt not kill ideal." 

"Then why?" Bianca asked. 

"Because he's my brother," Chris said simply. "And if nothing else, us Halliwells have always been selfish creatures." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he was jingled again. He looked over at Bianca apologetically. 

"I’m sorry, but I really don't have time for this now," he told her. "On this night, ease my plight—" 

"What are you—" Bianca hissed. 

"Let her sleep until first light," Chris finished, and Bianca went limp. Chris reached out and caught her before she could hit the ground, orbing them straight to his room and laying her gently on the bed. He grabbed his shoes and then glanced back at where she slept. 

"Sweet dreams," he said, before orbing out again.


	2. Perry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lines between Lord Christopher and Perry are starting to blur.

"You're late," Daniel said. 

"Yes, I'm sorry," Chris said, but didn't explain himself. Saving his brother from his would-be-assassin wasn't actually an excuse he could share with the resistance that wanted to see Wyatt dead. 

Chris glanced down at the ashes and scorch marks scattered around the typical guard posts. "It looks like you started without me" 

Daniel grinned. "I may have let Marc and Gracie out," he said with a shrug. "They've been having fun." 

"Perry," Grace said, appearing behind Daniel. Marc leaned up against the wall behind him. "Daniel said we're getting everyone out? Is it true?" 

"Yes," Chris said, stepping over to grab each of their wrists. "And we're starting with the two of you." 

Chris felt his magic working as the key let him slip past Wyatt's defenses, taking him to the mortal world. He let out a breath as they appeared in one of the resistance shelters. It was an old abandoned high school, and the air pressure was different here. It was so much lighter, that after being in the underworld so long, Chris felt a little faint. 

Grace watched him in concern for a moment, but Chris just took in another deep breath and adjusted to the difference. He had brought them to the pool, which had been drained and used to store weapons. Chris had thought it was funny to turn a school into his base of operation at the time, since Wyatt had taken over Magic School as one of his, but in practice he found it disturbing. 

He couldn't deny that it was practical, however. It had a cafeteria, a training area in the gym, and the classrooms were set up as quarters for everyone to sleep. It was also one of the safest places in the world for a witch to be, because Chris had glamoured the entire place to look like ruins. Only witches with good magic could enter the school. Anyone else could wander around for hours, stepping over burned out classrooms and bits of stone. Even Wyatt would not be able to see past the glamour, though Chris was sure he could find some way around it if he ever learned it was there. 

"A little warning would have been nice," Marc complained, as he pulled away. 

"Sorry," Chris said, and let Grace go, trying to pull himself together. He glanced around to assess the state of the school. He hadn't been able to get away from his brother long enough to come here since he had set up. It was too dangerous, most of the time, to risk Wyatt or one of his guards following him. 

"You guys need to get everything ready for the others," Chris said. "They're going to need food, a place to sleep. Do you have enough?" 

"We'll manage," Grace said. "Just get them here." 

Chris nodded and appeared back in the dungeons. It was easier orbing through Wyatt's magic this time, but it was taking more effort to bypass it than it ordinarily did to orb. Daniel glanced up as he appeared again. 

"Ready to get started?" Daniel asked. "We need to get them out of here before your brother realizes what's happening." 

Chris shook his head. "Lord Wyatt won't be causing us any trouble tonight," he said, pausing when he noticed the assessing look Daniel was giving him. "What?" 

"You always do that," Daniel said. "You pretend that Lord Wyatt and your brother aren't the same person. That you're not the same person as Perry. I don't think it's healthy." 

"Daniel, my brother is the ruler of three worlds. I've watched him threaten, torture, and kill people we both used to know, then turn around and make me sit down to a nice family dinner," Chris said slowly. "I think I'm about as well-adjusted as I'm going to get." 

"Okay, fair point," Daniel said awkwardly, rubbing a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Look, Perry, I just meant—I just mean, maybe you should come with us." 

Chris frowned, glancing over at him. "What?" 

"Let's go with your plan," Daniel said. "Let's get these people out of here, and then you go with them." 

"I can't leave," Chris protested at once. "Trust me, things will get much, much worse for everyone if I do." 

"And what if he knows it was you? Things are going to get worse anyway," Daniel said in frustration. "It's time to get out. Cut your losses. You knew this would happen eventually!" 

"No," Chris said. "If I have to leave, if I don't have a choice, then I will. But even if that happens, I still can't go with you. Because wherever I go, my brother will find me, and I can't risk leading him to you." 

Daniel turned to glare at the wall. "We'd be willing to take that risk, you know that," he said. "There isn't a person in the resistance that wouldn't die for you." 

"And what kind of leader would I be if I let them?" Chris asked quietly. 

"Like any other leader there ever was," Daniel said dryly. 

"You're forgetting that I never wanted to be a leader in the first place," Chris said. "I don't plan on playing by the rules." 

"Do you ever?" Daniel asked, his voice somewhere between frustrated and amused. "I know better than to argue with you. Just go do your thing." 

Chris grinned and then grew serious as he stepped into the dungeons. The prisoners here almost all knew him. Some dropped their eyes, some dropped to their knees—every last one of them looked terrified. They knew him only as Lord Christopher, after all. 

They knew him as Lord Wyatt's strategist, the one that had mapped out the battles that had lost them their homes. They didn't know him as Perry, the one that had planned out the battles so that their lives wouldn't be lost.

He flicked his wrist and the locks all twisted and released at once, sending the cell doors creeping open an inch. The prisoners watched him warily, not leaving the cells even now that they could. He lowered his hands, pointing the palms towards the ground, a telekinetic's show of submission.

"Hi, everyone. This is Daniel, and he's come to help," Chris said, nodding his head towards Daniel. "Daniel, show them what you are." 

Daniel's black clothes disappeared, replaced by the traditional white robes worn by whitelighters, back when they'd still had ceremonies to attend. The prisoners looked at him in disbelief. Most witches hadn't seen a whitelighter since before Wyatt had taken over the world above. 

"Daniel asked me to get you all out of here, but if I'm going to do that, you're going to have to trust us," Chris said. 

"How can we trust you?" a woman asked quietly, stepping in front of her children. 

"Because if I meant you harm, you couldn't stop me," Chris said simply. "Because you don't have any other choice." 

"You have my word as a whitelighter that you'll be safe," Daniel said. He turned to Chris. "You have to tell them your name. Tell them who you really are." 

Chris swallowed. It was always a hard thing for him to acknowledge, as he'd much rather pretend it was some other person. Daniel never understood that, and he'd never understood that Chris really was Lord Christopher, too. 

Chris stepped forward. "You might know me as Lord Christopher," he said. "But my friends call me Perry." 

Chris could see the looks of disbelief and shock on their faces as it slowly morphed into understanding. Chris had spun Perry into legend without quite meaning to—because Perry had pulled off the impossible, more than a few times, by having the particular talent of being two people at once. They wouldn't be able to deny it, because while it was something that few would ever suspect, in hindsight he knew it was the only thing that made any sense.

"So," he said quietly, and held out his hand. "Who wants to get out of here?" 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris orbed the last of the prisoners to the school and then returned. As he materialized back in the underworld, he felt his knees give out. Daniel rushed forward, grabbing him around the waist to hold him up. "Perry? What—" 

Chris pressed his eyes closed. "Sorry," he said. "Even with the key it's a fight against Wyatt's magic every time I orb out of here." 

It had been getting harder and harder to get people to safety as the night went on. He took as many with him at a time as he could, but he didn't want to risk more than five. That was hard enough with Wyatt's magic pressing back on him. It had taken longer to get everyone out than he had hoped. 

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Daniel demanded, as Chris caught his balance again and stumbled away. "You could have given me the key, I could have taken a turn." 

Chris shook his head. "I'm pretty sure it's coded to me," he said. "Couldn't take the risk." He looked back at Daniel. "Are you going to the base?" 

"No," Daniel said. "I still have contacts I need to meet down here, but I will be getting the hell out of the palace. I don't need Wyatt coming to look for me when he finds out the prisoners are all gone." 

Chris nodded, and waved a hand across the wall. One of his tunnels appeared. "This might save you some time," he said. 

Daniel started towards it, but looked back at Chris before he left. "You need to get back to your room," he said. "And if Wyatt suspects—you have to get out of here, Perry. You have to run. Promise me." 

"I promise," Chris said. "I know what's at stake." 

Daniel nodded and entered the tunnel. Chris waved his hand again as he started towards the stairs, and the wall closed up again. He sluggishly made his way up the staircase and out into the hall, his magic too strained to attempt to orb. 

He was already halfway down the hall when he noticed there was simulated light coming through the windows. The enchanted windows were timed to the world above. He was out of time. The spell would have come undone. 

Chris took off more quickly, nearly tripping as he took a corner fast. His palm hit the wall and he caught himself against it. He righted himself and started rushing back down the hall. 

And ran straight into Wyatt. 

Wyatt grabbed his shoulders, steadying him before Chris could react enough to step out of reach. Chris went into survival mode on automatic—he let his expression go blank, pushed all thoughts of Perry from his mind, became Lord Christopher instead. Wyatt's mischievous little brother had much greater experience at talking himself out of trouble. 

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" Wyatt asked. 

His voice didn't sound accusing, he sounded _amused_. Chris felt his blood run cold. 

"Calm down," Wyatt ordered in exasperation. "I'm not mad. I think it's a good thing." 

Chris watched his brother carefully, not giving anything away. They couldn't possibly be thinking of the same thing. "What, exactly, do you think you know?" he asked, adding a little wry amusement to his tone, like nothing was wrong at all. 

"About you and Bianca," Wyatt explained. "I went to check on you, and found her sleeping in your bed." 

Chris felt the relief surge through him, though he knew he'd only bought himself time. The alarm would be going up soon, and he'd been seen near the scene of the crime. "Right," he said, scrubbing a hand though his hair. "Uh, about that, we're not really—" 

"What's wrong with you?" Wyatt demanded suddenly, releasing his shoulder to grab his chin. Chris hated when Wyatt did that. "You look ill." 

"I just haven't been sleeping," Chris lied. 

"Is that why you're wandering the halls alone this early?" Wyatt demanded. "I thought I was clear. I'm willing to forgive Bianca for allowing it this once, but you will have a new guard this morning." 

"I don't need a guard, Wyatt," Chris protested immediately. "You're being—" 

"Do not argue with me," Wyatt snapped. "I ordered Bianca to stay by your side and she failed me. You're lucky I'm in such a forgiving mood, or I might not have left her where I found her." 

"Okay," Chris said quickly. He knew whether he'd meant to or not he'd just turned Bianca into a pawn—she was something Wyatt could use against him now. Leverage. And even if their relationship wasn't what Wyatt thought, Chris wouldn't let her get hurt because of him. "Really, I won't even kill this one." 

"Good," Wyatt said, smiling slightly as he stepped around him. "Try not to sleep with this one, either." 

Chris watched him go for a moment before turning and running back down the hall. If Wyatt was up, so was Bianca. He had to get to her before she slipped off and did something stupid. They had enough trouble coming for them as it was. 

Chris seriously doubted his brother's forgiving attitude would hold, once someone sounded the alarm. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"You son of a bitch!" Bianca cursed at him, the moment he pushed into his room. An athame came straight at him, and he fell back at the door. It hit the wall beside him, vibrating in place from the force of her throw, and Chris watched it for a moment with disbelief before turning back to her.

At least he knew she hadn't actually been planning to kill him. Bianca didn't ever miss. 

"Don’t you ever, I mean ever, use a spell on me again," she snapped. "Are we clear?" 

"So we're just going to ignore the part where I saved your life then?" Chris asked dryly, tossing her a grin. 

Bianca stalked towards him, and leaned in close enough to touch, though she didn't. Without taking her eyes off of him, she reached up to drag her athame out of the wall. "Like I said," she said coolly. "Don't do it again." 

"After this?" Chris said, falsely cheerful. "No problem. I'll just watch Wyatt kill you next time." 

Bianca ignored him, moving on without acknowledging him. Chris had tried to lead her into bantering with him more than once—she always managed to avoid it by not bothering to match up her side of the conversation to his. "I went through your things when I woke," she said. "I was hoping to find something useful. No luck there." 

Chris narrowed his eyes as he realized she'd pulled out all of the books and documents he had hidden. "How did you—" he started. 

"Please, I taught you that spell, remember?" Bianca asked. 

Chris remembered. He'd been sixteen at the time, and she had been his constant shadow. Chris had tried to slip out of her watch one too many times and she was getting frustrated with him. Unlike all of his other guards, however, she understood and she knew the lack of privacy was getting to him. 

She had taught him a spell to enchant objects he didn't want found, that would make them invisible to all but him. It hadn't really occurred to him at the time, but of course she knew the counter-spell just as well.

"Is that why you taught it to me?" he demanded, trying to keep the hurt from his voice. "So you could spy on me? See what I was trying to hide?" 

"No," Bianca said. "I've never had reason to need to until now. But this? A History of King Arthur? Reversing morality? Cleansing your aura?" Her voice was scathing. "That's a little like trying to take out a Brute demon with a nail file, don't you think?" 

"I thought I'd heard you'd done that," Chris said dryly. 

"Don't play games with me, Christopher," Bianca snapped. "What the hell is all this?" 

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Chris said, reaching over to take one of his spellbooks from her hands. "We've got bigger problems right now. I need to know you're not going to try and kill Wyatt again." 

"I'll kill him the first chance I get," Bianca said simply. "It's certainly a better plan than yours. What exactly are you expecting to happen? You're going to sprinkle him with fairy dust and turn him into Prince Charming?" 

"I think you're mixing up your Disney, and it's just research," Chris said. "We both know if I'd found anything that would work we wouldn't be having this conversation. But I will find something, and in the meantime, I need you to promise me you won't kill him." 

"He needs to die for what he's done," Bianca said, her eyes sparking. "For the same reasons you can't kill him, I _have to_. Can't you understand? He needs to die." 

"And what then? Everything just goes back to how it was? It's too late, Bianca!" Chris told her. "He may have been the one to destroy the world in the first place, but like it or not, he's the only thing holding together what's left of it. If he were killed it would be chaos, because there's no one else. No Elders, to save us. No Cleaners, to make this whole thing disappear. Just mortals and witches and demons, with nothing to keep them from slaughtering each other except for him." 

"I thought your reasons for keeping him alive weren't noble," she said.

"Yes, and that's my reason, and mine alone," Chris said. "It doesn't mean there aren't other reasons killing him is a bad idea." 

"You could take his place," Bianca said. 

Chris laughed. "What?" 

"You said there's no one else, but there is," Bianca insisted. "There's you." 

"I don't have my brother's power, even if I did have any wish to take his place," Chris said. "Don't you see there's only one thing to do? We have to make Wyatt into the leader he was supposed to be. I have to fix him—" 

"Fix him?" Bianca demanded, holding up a pile of his papers with disbelief. "You really think any of this is ever going to do a bit of good? He's evil, Chris. He's pure evil." 

"But he's not," Chris protested. "He's done evil things, but he's not evil, not yet. The only reason that he started all of this was because he wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to protect us." 

"I really hadn't expected you would be this naive," Bianca said. "First he took the world below, then he took the world above, and then he took everything in-between. All because he could. And you want to make him better, you want to fix him so he's a benevolent lord to his disciples? That's your plan?" 

"If I can save him," Chris said, "he can save everyone else." 

"This isn't about saving Wyatt, Chris," Bianca snapped. "This is about saving yourself. This is about getting your big brother back so he can take care of things and you won't have to. You need to face up to facts, because you're probably right that I won't ever get close enough to Wyatt to kill him. You're the only one that could stop him."

"I can't—" Chris said in frustration. "I told you, I—" 

"I get that you're scared of him, but you have to do something," Bianca insisted. "You can't just keep standing by on the sidelines, watching this all happen, doing nothing. I know. I've done it myself a hell of a lot longer than you, so I get it. But you can't do it anymore. We can't do it anymore." 

"I'm not!" Chris insisted. 

"You need to get proactive," she continued, ignoring his protests. "You need to grow the hell up!" 

"I am plenty proactive," Chris said. "You can trust me on that!"

"How?" she demanded. "What have you done? Nothing but petty teenage rebellion, maybe tossed a few bits of information to Perry?" 

"I am Perry!" he shouted. 

Bianca went very still. She seemed to pale a bit as she brought up one hand to clutch at her neck. 

"How's that for proactive?" Chris asked awkwardly, as Bianca just continued to stare at him in shock. "Good enough?" 

"Oh, by the fires," she gasped, dropping down to sit on the bed. "You're not kidding, are you?" 

"You know me, always have a back up plan," Chris said, as he dropped down to sit beside her. 

"Oh god," Bianca said. "I don't even—how is that possible? How have you managed to keep this under wraps?" 

"By being cautious," Chris said. "You know. Until now. And last night. When I sort of orbed out all of Wyatt's prisoners." 

Bianca jumped to her feet. "You did what?" she asked. "How stupid can you get?" 

"Hey!" Chris protested. "You just told me I needed to start doing something!" 

"I know, I know what I said," Bianca said, looking frustrated with herself. "And I meant it! But I never actually thought you'd turn against him." 

"I didn't, exactly," Chris said. "I was never really with him in the first place." 

Bianca looked at him with wide eyes. "You've been playing him. All this time," she said, sounding breathless. "You've been playing us all." 

"Yes," he said. 

"You're taking quite the chance, trusting me with this," Bianca said. 

"You can't tell Wyatt, for your own sake," Chris said quickly, getting to his feet to stand in front of her. "If you tried, he wouldn't believe you. He'd kill you. I don't want that to happen." 

"Where does that leave us, then?" Bianca asked. 

"I meant what I said, I can get you out of here," Chris said. "Wyatt gave me a key. I can take you anywhere." 

"I don't want to run from this anymore," Bianca decided, looking up at him. 

Chris grinned. "Then we won't," he said. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris anxiously paced the floor of his room. The alarm had gone up an hour ago, and Bianca had left to find out what Wyatt was doing about it. She had insisted Chris stay here, rather than risk Wyatt's wrath. It was one of Wyatt's rules that Chris stay in his room if an alarm was sounded until Wyatt came for him, but he didn't like it one bit. 

Usually he'd ignore it, but Bianca was right. If Wyatt was angry with him, it would be better to be where he was supposed to be. He knew if he tried to hide Wyatt would find him. 

The door opened and Bianca slipped inside, closing it behind her. 

"What's going on?" Chris demanded. 

"You're to stay here, Wyatt's orders," Bianca said. "He's keeping me on as your guard for now, because he doesn't trust anyone at the moment." 

"Then he suspects me?" Chris asked. 

"No," Bianca said, but she wasn't meeting his eyes. "He's more worried about your safety than anything else. He thinks this is related to the assassination attempts. He thinks someone is trying to overthrow him." 

"Wyatt's not stupid," Chris said. "He must at least suspect me. You're not telling me something." 

"He doesn't suspect you because he believes the culprit has already been caught," Bianca said calmly. "So there's nothing you need to worry about." 

"That sounds pretty worrying," Chris snapped. "Is it Daniel? Did he capture him? Because there's no way I'm letting him die for me—" 

"It's not Daniel," Bianca said. "And he probably won't kill the one he's caught." 

"Of course he will!" Chris said at once. "Maybe not right away, but that's worse. The only reason he wouldn't was if—" Chris broke off, his eyes widening in horror. "Bianca, who does he think did this?" 

"He decided only a Halliwell could have pulled it off," Bianca said quietly. "And it just so happens that a Halliwell was caught trespassing this morning."

"No," Chris whispered. He ran his hands through his hair. "Who?" 

"One of the Charmed Ones," Bianca said reluctantly. 

"You don't know which one?" Chris demanded. 

"Does it matter?" she asked. 

"No," Chris admitted. "Not really. I'll have to confess either way."

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you!" Bianca hissed. "Whichever one it is, the other will come for them, and they'll be fine. You just need to keep your mouth shut until this all blows over." 

"I think you know me better than that," Chris said, as he tried to move around her. 

She pushed him back, not moving from the doorway. "So what?" she asked. "You run in there and tell him everything? What will that accomplish? You'll just end up in the cell beside them! He'll never believe that a Charmed One being here at the same time as this escape was a coincidence. He might not even believe you now if you try to take credit for it." 

Chris laughed incredulously, as he realized Bianca might be right. If he went running to Wyatt now claiming he'd done the whole thing, Wyatt would think he was only trying to save his aunt. He had to be smart about this. "No, you're right," he said. "He might not believe I was behind it. But luckily I have another I can blame." 

"Who?" Bianca asked. 

"Perry," Chris said simply. 

"You don't want to call attention to him, either," Bianca insisted. "So far Wyatt's been writing Perry off as a nuisance, because no one ever sells him out. If one of the resistance is caught they always insist they're working on their own. I've always wondered how you keep the resistance so loyal to you." 

"They did it to themselves," Chris said, but didn't explain. "This is the whole reason I made Perry in the first place, to draw his eye away from me. Now I've got to use him to save my family." 

"You really think they'd lift a finger for you?" Bianca asked coldly.

Chris tried not to flinch. He still had a strange empty space in his mind from where his family had cut their connection. They'd never given him a chance to explain, because they hadn't wanted to risk him leading Wyatt to them. He understood it, logically. He knew why they thought they couldn't trust him. 

But it didn't make it any easier. 

"I made Lord Christopher just as I made Perry," he said quietly. "And I've got to deal with the consequences of being both." He looked away from her. "Where are they keeping her?" 

"I'm not sure," Bianca said. "Wyatt is keeping the whole thing under wraps, I didn't hear any of this from him. I think he's trying to keep it from you." 

Chris nodded. "I know where she'll be," he said, and closed his eyes before orbing out. 

He appeared in his own personal wing of the dungeon. Chris used to jokingly call it the Tower of London. It was the only cell Wyatt ever used for him. It looked almost exactly like all the others, except that there was a four-poster bed in the middle of the room, silken quilts and lavender sheets carefully made up on top of it. A prison fit for a prince, Wyatt had told him mockingly, the first time he locked him up there. 

It always had more the feel of a 'time-out' to it than 'hard time.' Chris never really got the full effect of being locked in the dungeon, and he'd never really been hurt. Wyatt wouldn't allow it. Everyone knew that he was mostly just punishing him for show. 

Paige was another story entirely. 

He could see a bruise down half her face, and her lip was split open so much her lips were glossed over with blood. She was huddled in on herself, her dark brown hair falling around her face, the few grey streaks catching on the light and making her look haloed. 

Chris felt his hands clench, and wished that he could take her pain away. That he could fix her. But that power had never been his. 

It was the one power of Wyatt's that he actually envied. 

Paige looked up and met his eyes, and Chris had to fight not to stagger back at the anger in them. He had known, somehow, that it was Paige he would find here. He couldn't see her having allowed Phoebe to come alone, for all that Paige was the youngest one. Chris and Paige had always had that in common—the way they were protective of their family, despite being the youngest. 

"Well, look at you," Paige said weakly, her voice cracking strangely. "All grown up." 

"What were you thinking, coming here?" Chris asked quietly. He'd been trying so hard, for so long, to keep their family off Wyatt's radar. Wyatt had mentioned more than once trying to find them and bring them into the fold, but Chris knew that would end only one way. 

"You look just like her, you know," Paige said, ignoring his question. "God. Every little bit of you. I wonder what your parents would think, if they could see you now?" 

"I couldn't care less what Leo might think," Chris said. "But I know my mother would understand what I've done, even if she didn't agree with it." 

"Then you're just as delusional as Wyatt," she said. 

Chris knelt down in front of the bars, frowning as he tried to assess just how injured she was. "I know this wasn't you," he said. "I know it was Perry. You just have to tell Wyatt the truth." 

"You think I’m going to sell someone out to save myself?" Paige demanded. "Didn't we teach you anything?" 

"You taught me a lot," Chris agreed. "And I’m trying to do what I can with it. I'm trying to help as much as I can." 

Paige proudly forced herself to her feet, one hand shooting out to balance herself on the bars before looking down at him with disdain. 

"Do you think I'm stupid, Chris?" she asked. "Wyatt is smart and he's strong and he took this world over all by himself, in one fell swoop. But he's never been clever like you're clever, and he only managed it because no one stood a chance against him. He's not a strategist. Not like you." 

"Paige," Chris started, but didn't rise to his feet. He'd let Paige feel like she had the higher ground, if that was what she wanted. 

"I've seen Wyatt's battles before," she said tightly. "I've been in them. And they've always had your name written all over them, even more than his." 

"You have to understand, this was for the best," Chris said pleadingly. "By the time Wyatt came to us it was too late to do anything else. There was never the option of going back to how things were." 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Paige snarled. 

Chris could tell her the truth. He could tell her he's been lying to Wyatt about agreeing with him, that he's been undermining him every chance he gets, mitigating the damage wherever he can. But part of the reason that Chris had managed this for so long was that it was so hard to believe. 

Bianca had told him even Wyatt probably wouldn't believe him if he confessed, and Paige definitely wouldn't. 

He steeled himself and got back to his feet, trying to stay focused on what was important. Trying to get Paige to forgive him here wasn't the goal—getting her out of here was. "What were you doing here?" he asked. "Why would you have come here now?" 

"Is this good cop bad cop?" Paige demanded. "Wyatt smacks me around and then you come and play the gentle nursemaid? I'm not telling you a thing." 

"I already know you didn't have anything to do with this," Chris said. "I'm just asking why you were really here. I want to help." 

"I came here to get the prisoners out," Paige said simply, and Chris turned away in frustration. She seemed determined to take the blame, but he couldn't figure out why. 

"Perry did this," he said tightly. "I know he did. And I know you don't work for him. Why are you confessing to something you didn't do?" 

Paige watched him for a moment, examining him closer than he liked. "Wyatt believed me when I confessed," she said finally. "He didn't say a thing about Perry." 

"I can talk him around, if you just tell me the truth," Chris insisted. 

"What interests me is how you can be so certain of what really happened last night," Paige said. "When Wyatt, our self-professed lord of everything, doesn't have a clue." 

"I have contacts within Perry's inner circle," Chris said dismissively, trying to brush past it. "So don't bother trying to take credit for this with me. I know Perry doesn't have anything to do with you." 

Paige shrugged, and that's when Chris realized what she was doing. They're looking for you, Daniel had told him. And what better way to get an elusive resistance fighter's attention than to take credit for one of his jobs?

After all, it had worked. 

She thought she was helping the cause by taking the blame on herself. She expected to get out and have Perry's gratitude, so they could join up together to take Wyatt down. And he had no way to explain why that wouldn't work. 

"If you're not going to tell Wyatt the truth, then I will," Chris told her. "I will get you out of here, Paige, whether you want me to or not." 

Chris orbed out of the dungeons without waiting for her reply, appearing in the halls above. He leaned against the wall and tried to steady his breathing. He'd seen people he had known before, on the other side of the bars, looking at him like an enemy. 

But never his family. 

Chris had known what he was getting into, from the start. He knew for this to work they'd have to disown him—because if they'd known the truth, they never would have let him stay. 

Everything was going exactly according to plan. He just hadn't expected it to hurt quite this much. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris orbed into his brother's office. Wyatt was behind his desk, and he didn't bother to look up as Chris appeared. Only one whitelighter would be able to orb in this room, and Wyatt didn't appear very concerned with him. 

"Wyatt," Chris snapped impatiently. "Wyatt!" 

"I heard you," Wyatt said dryly. "I'm just wondering why you aren't in your room like I ordered. That's strike two for the lovely Bianca." 

"Bianca doesn't have anything to do with this," Chris said. "This is about Paige." 

Wyatt sighed and finally looked up. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I was going to tell you." 

"What? Like maybe over dinner? 'Oh, by the way, I've got our aunt locked up in the basement'?" Chris demanded. 

"She confessed, Chris," Wyatt said slowly. "I can't very well let something like this go with no reprisal. She's lucky to still be alive." 

"But she didn't do it," Chris said quickly. "You know how stubborn she is! She's lying!" 

"And why would she do that?" Wyatt asked, with the sort of patience he only ever had for Chris. 

"To protect the person really responsible, why else?" Chris asked. 

"Well, little brother, don't keep me in suspense," Wyatt said. 

"Perry," Chris said simply. 

"Perry," Wyatt repeated. "I don't think you quite understand what happened last night. This wasn't some little jailbreak. All of my prisoners just disappeared. Do you really think some nothing witch could pull that off? And what? Aunt Paige just happened to be sneaking along the perimeter at the very same time?" 

"Yes, exactly," Chris said. "So let her go." 

"Christopher, you're not this naïve," Wyatt said. 

"No, I'm not," Chris agreed. "But I have contacts, Wyatt, and I know that Paige didn't have—" 

Chris didn't get to finish as he felt himself slammed up against the wall. He gasped as phantom fingers carefully closed in around his throat. 

"What?" Wyatt demanded. "What sort of contacts?" 

"Wyatt—" Chris gasped, and he felt the grip loosen, though he still couldn't move from against the wall. 

"What contacts?" Wyatt demanded, as he stalked closer from around his desk. "Answer me." 

"Within the resistance," Chris said. "They said Perry is taking credit for the escape, and I checked, Wyatt, they've never worked with our aunts." 

Chris tried to sink further back into the wall as Wyatt moved closer, looking even angrier than he had before. "You've been meeting up with the resistance?" he asked quietly. His voice was steady and Chris tried not to wince—a calm Wyatt was very dangerous. "You're not supposed to go anywhere without my knowing about it. Just how the hell have you been meeting up with the resistance?" 

"Is that really what's important here?" Chris asked. "Paige is—" 

"I will deal with Paige later," Wyatt interrupted. "Answer me." 

"You know I've snuck out before," Chris said, unable to understand why Wyatt was so angry. "You've even yelled at me for it before!" 

"Yes, I thought you were sneaking off to the world above, going to parties or something," Wyatt snarled. "Not having clandestine meetings with people that would gladly see you dead." 

"You're blowing this way out of proportion," Chris started. He could feel the situation spiraling out of hand. Wyatt was never very happy when he found out Chris had slipped his guards, but he'd never reacted like this. 

"Show me how you've been getting out," Wyatt said. "I just gave you the key, you can't have been orbing out that way before last night. You must have some other way." 

Chris felt his heart stop. He'd never expected that Wyatt would force him to reveal his way out, but he really should have. He tried to find a good lie, which usually came to him so easily. Nothing came to him now. "I just…" 

"Tell me, or Bianca is going to be the first to repopulate my dungeons," Wyatt said. 

"You wouldn't," Chris protested. 

Wyatt released his telekinetic hold on Chris only to reach out and grab his arm, shimmering them both into the hall. "Show me," he demanded. 

Chris tried to pull away in frustration but Wyatt didn't lesson his grip. Chris had always found it annoying that Wyatt was not only more powerful, but also physically stronger. Paige used to remind him that he just had other strengths—that he was clever. At least she still seemed to think that, though she no longer stated it as a compliment.

"Chris!" Wyatt shouted, giving him a firm shake. "How have you been getting out?" 

"Tunnels," Chris admitted, and he felt sick as he did, because he was betraying himself. But he had to give something to Wyatt or this could end badly for them all. He had to let Wyatt have a victory. He waved a hand against the wall and one of the tunnels shimmered into view. 

Wyatt let him go, staring at the tunnel in disbelief. "You made these?" he demanded. 

"Yes," Chris said. "I was going crazy being locked up here, you have to understand—" 

Wyatt let out an angry shout, and threw a hand against the wall. There was a domino affect as Wyatt's magic overtook his own, destroying his tunnels from the inside out. It was only a moment and the tunnels were gone—the stone wall sat there unmarked, like they had never been there at all. 

Wyatt turned on him then, his eyes still burning with that same strange rage. He reached out and grabbed the stone around Chris's neck, tearing it free. Chris let out a startled cry as it tore against his throat, and reached up press his fingers against it.

"This stops now," Wyatt snapped. "I don't care what reasons you may have had, you'll have nothing to do with the resistance again. You will not leave this palace without my permission. In fact, for the foreseeable future, you will not leave your room at all." 

"I know you're angry with me," Chris said, discreetly stepping away from his brother. "But I need you to listen to what I've told you. I need you to believe me when I tell you that Perry is the one behind this. If you want someone to blame, he's a much better target than Paige." 

"You would say anything to save her," Wyatt said. "Though I must say something good has come of this, since at least I know now how to keep you here." 

"Fine, I'll be your prisoner if that's what you want," Chris said, and his calm had gone completely. He tried to force his mind to figure this out, but his heart wouldn't give him the time. He could think of nothing but Paige in that prison below them. "Just let Paige go. She had nothing to do with this." 

"Andrew," Wyatt called, and a man shimmered in beside him. "See my brother to his room, and make sure he stays there." Wyatt reached out and grabbed Chris around the throat, and though his grip was tight, Chris could feel the warmth as he healed him. "And you—you will do as you're told. Say it." 

"I will do as I'm told," Chris said. 

"Andrew is a warlock, so it'll get messy if you kill him," Wyatt warned. "I know how much you dislike killing those that aren't considerate enough to turn to ash." 

"I said I'll do as I'm told," Chris snapped, pulling away. "But what will you do, with Paige?" 

"Take him, now," Wyatt said to Andrew. "No one is to see him. Especially not Bianca." 

Andrew stepped around Wyatt, reaching out to grab Chris's arm as he began to tug him down the hall. 

"You're going to let Paige go, though, right?" Chris called as Wyatt spun and stalked away. "Wyatt? Wyatt!" 

Andrew shimmered them back to his quarters before he got an answer—but Chris was pretty certain Wyatt hadn't been planning to tell him, in any case. 

Chris had played his greatest hand by giving up the tunnels. Now there was nothing left to do but wait and see if it would pay off. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt stared at his aunt, blood-splattered and defiant, and thought he should probably feel some slight remorse. Instead he felt more powerful than ever, as though it was right, her being here—her being in his power.

Things could have gone so differently, if he'd had his whole family beside him. Alas, there was no place in his kingdom for regret. 

"Chris doesn't think you did this," Wyatt told her. She doesn't startle at his voice, not the way most prisoners would. 

"Yeah, well," Paige smirked, nevermind that with her split lips it must hurt. "I'm starting to think he's even crazier than you." 

"He is the only reason you're still alive," Wyatt said simply. She was a threat, and whatever connection he'd had to her had been mostly severed by years of neglect. She could be useful, but she was dangerous. 

He knew the smart play would be to put her down—but he also knew, Chris would never forgive him. 

"Are you really that far gone?" Paige asked quietly. "You would kill me?" 

"You haven't left me much choice," Wyatt said. "Unless, perhaps, this is, as my brother claims, all a misunderstanding." 

"I confessed," Paige said tightly, glaring back at him. "Why would I do that if that wasn't true?" 

"He says you're protecting someone," Wyatt said. He paused for a beat. "Perry." 

Her expression gave her away—it was true. Wyatt didn't know if that made things better or worse. On the one hand, his aunt had not betrayed him. On the other, his little brother had. Because this meant that Chris had contacts in the resistance and had never told him, that he had information on the ever elusive Perry yet had chosen not to share it. 

Then again, Wyatt thought wryly, perhaps Chris had rightly been worried of receiving the very reaction he'd gotten earlier. 

It was very like his brother to keep his knowledge to himself for as long as he could, only divulging it when necessary. He supposed in that sense his aunt Paige deserved his thanks. He had been trying to figure out how Chris was slipping in and out of his walls for years. 

Paige still looked at him head on, her eyes sparking with the same stubbornness that Chris had inherited. Wyatt had always been far more like his father. He had a much longer fuse, though he tended to cause bigger explosions. 

"That's okay," Wyatt told her, his tone falsely gentle. "You don't have to say anything against him. My brother has already talked your way out of this mess. It's one of his most useful talents, and the one I least like having using against me." 

"Yet here you are, letting him use it on you," Paige said. "He's just trying to get you to let me go. Maybe he's not quite as far gone as you, after all. At least he still cares about family. And you know Chris, you know him better than any of us—what does he do, when he's backed into a corner? He lies." 

Wyatt leaned up against the bars, glaring in at her. "Not to me," he snarled. "It's true that Chris would like to keep you out of this, but I know better. You're too set in your ways, whether you had anything to do with this is inconsequential, because I know you won't stop. It's going to get you and dear aunt Phoebe killed, just like your sisters. The question is whether or not you plan to bring the whole line down with you." 

"Don't you dare harm those children," Paige said shakily. "You wouldn't." 

"Don't give me reason," Wyatt said easily. "In any case, it's Chris that concerns me. It would be very like him to get himself hurt, trying to help you." 

"Chris is no longer my concern," Paige said. "He made his choice." 

"No," Wyatt said simply, with a shake of his head. "Chris merely understood that there was no choice, and acted accordingly." Wyatt lowered his eyes to meet hers. "You always did call him the smartest one of us all, maybe it's time you started taking his cues." 

"I will never follow you," Paige snarled. 

"Then I'm afraid I can't protect you," Wyatt said. "Consider this a warning, and consider it carefully, because you won't get another. Stay out of our way." 

"Let me return that favor, and offer a little warning of my own," Paige said calmly. "Whatever else you've become, you're still a Halliwell. And our magic comes with a cost. If you're not careful you might end up losing more than you'd like." 

"Is that a threat?" Wyatt demanded. 

"It's a warning, like I said," Paige said. "The consequences of personal gain didn't just disappear because you did away with the Elders. If our powers were that connected to them we would have lost them at the same time." 

"I'm the twice-blessed. Nothing can touch me," Wyatt told her coldly.

"You never did pay attention to my lessons, did you?" Paige asked sadly. "When you do something for personal gain, nine times out of ten, it isn't you that has to deal with the consequences. It's someone that you love." 

"Well, luckily for me, that really only applies to one person," Wyatt said. "And I have taken measures to make sure he's protected, even from himself." 

"That protection is tainted by evil, dear nephew," Paige said. "It's hollow, and there are ways around it." 

Paige met his gaze defiantly, smirking as Phoebe appeared behind her. Paige reached out and grabbed her hand without moving her eyes from Wyatt's, and the two disappeared in a flurry of orbs. 

Wyatt shouted in rage, kicking at the bars. Invisibility spell, he realized. Had to be. Phoebe must have infiltrated his base, then killed one of his one most trusted demons, and stolen its key.

He'd known it was a mistake to let them live. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt stormed into the alter room, waving his hand to open the Book of Shadows to the page that he needed. His family may have been hidden from him for years, but that was only because he hadn't bothered to really look. 

He had honored Chris's wishes and left them alone, but there would be no keeping him from them now. 

He paused when he found what he was looking for. It was a variation on the to Call a Lost Witch spell, something of a reversal, and it was a spell that would only work for him. Perhaps for Chris, though it was unlikely. The spell required an immense core power and connection to magic. He could recite it without actually saying the words, he just had to close his eyes and appear wherever he wanted to be. 

Wyatt glanced around him. It was an old house, not unlike the manor in which he'd grown up. He could tell it had been glamoured—this was a basement, really, painted with magic and wards to look like a home. Two of his young cousins ran towards him, and straight through him to the other side of the room. 

He'd only sent a projection of himself here, and not one that could be seen. 

He walked through the house, ignoring the children as inconsequential. Then he spotted Paige and Phoebe. Paige was wearing Damon's key around her neck. Damon was dead, then—or if he wasn't, he soon would be. Either way it was a shame. Good help was so hard to find. 

Phoebe was carefully tending to her sister's injuries as they plotted against him. Paige glanced up uneasily in his direction, but turned away after a moment. She had always had a strange sort of power. Always seemingly the least powerful of the three, she nevertheless seemed to have a control greater than the rest. 

She often reminded him of Chris. 

Wyatt turned away from his aunts, from their strange little lives. They seemed to be living here like nothing had changed. They had built a sanctuary. He could feel their magic in every space in this place. It was full of Halliwell magic, twisting all around him, making him nauseous. If he'd come here in person, even he might have struggled to make his way past their defenses. 

But it didn't matter what defenses they had—not now that he knew where they were. 

Wyatt grinned, and returned to his body and his book. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Bianca did not know what was going on. She had gone to her own quarters when Chris had fled to try and save his aunt, and waited for Wyatt to summon her. It had taken him longer than she had expected, and she wondered if she was perhaps walking to her death. 

Her escorts led her to his throne room, and pulled open the doors. They did not follow her in. 

Few were allowed into the throne room—and of those that an exception had been made, fewer still had lived to tell the tale. It was majestic, rustic and something of a mix between a cathedral and a castle court. Wyatt liked to surround him with beautiful, immovable things. 

She dropped to her knees in front of him, knowing she didn't matter much more to him than the walls that trapped her in. 

"My lord," she said. 

He waved his hand impatiently, and she got to her feet. 

"My brother has been sneaking out for years," Wyatt said. "I have turned something of a blind eye as I knew he might go mad if I restricted him too much, but it worries me how often he's slipped your watch of late." 

Wyatt was sitting slumped in his throne, but now he sat up, his bright blue eyes digging into her. They seemed enchanted with some spell of their own. 

"Do you love my brother, Bianca?" he demanded. 

"He, like you, is my better, my lord," she said, and lowered her eyes. "I love you both as any good subject should." 

"Do not play games with me, because you will not win," he said. "You care for him. Admit it." 

"I would not wish to see him harmed," Bianca said, and looked up. "I would protect him with my life." 

"Yes," Wyatt said. "But would you die for him? Because that's not exactly the same thing." 

"Yes," she answered. Bianca watched Lord Wyatt carefully, but could not figure out what he was trying to get from her. That was very dangerous—because she had seen the sorts of things he did to those that did not give him what he wanted. "I would die for him, my lord, as I would for you." 

He nodded then, and sat back, satisfied. "It's not something I want to ask of you, you understand," he said. "But a Phoenix is neutral and can pass through their magic. And while I can, of course, destroy their barriers, I can't do it instantly, or without alerting them that I'm there." 

"My lord?" Bianca said hesitantly. 

"I speak, of course, of the Charmed Ones," Lord Wyatt said. "My aunts have temporarily escaped me, but I have ascertained their location, and sadly need to have them killed. Just the adults, if possible. But things happen, I understand. A certain level of collateral damage is to be expected." 

"You wish me to kill the Charmed Ones?" Bianca asked in disbelief. 

"Well, you are the best," Wyatt said, and smiled down at her like he was about to do her a favor. She caught her breath. "And nothing but the best, for my family." 

Bianca watched Wyatt carefully. He was playing his usual part but she could see his resolve—he was really going to kill them. She knew that despite the fact that they were in hiding, the remaining Charmed ones were still one of the only remaining symbols of hope.

She'd just lost her mother, she wouldn't be the cause of Chris losing his aunts. 

"No," she said. 

"You know you don't get to say that to me," Wyatt replied calmly. 

"But Chris—" she started, letting her voice break a little. Her refusal was a deadly slip, and Wyatt easily could have killed her for it on the spot. Her only chance was to appeal to the only part of Wyatt still human—his love for his brother. "He would never forgive me." 

"Yes, that's likely," Wyatt agreed. "But he will be safe. The Charmed Ones will get him killed if something is not done." 

Bianca froze, assessing Wyatt carefully. His control over her was almost complete, he had no need to lie to her about her targets to make her more amenable. Still, she couldn't believe the Charmed Ones would be trying to kill Chris. "Why go after Chris?" 

"Why else?" Wyatt asked. "To get to me." He leaned back in his chair. "Do this, and I will release you from your vow. You will be free to leave. In fact, I insist on it."

Bianca kneeled before him, lowering her head. "As you wish," she said, and it was starting to come together for her now. The Charmed Ones had threatened Wyatt's hold on his brother, and so had she. 

So he planned to get rid of them all, in one fell swoop. 

Wyatt tossed a key stone on the ground in front of her. "Take it," he said. "It's set to take you to my family the next time you shimmer out. Kill Paige and Phoebe, and you can go wherever you wish." 

Wyatt leaned forward. "Fail to kill them, and I will find you wherever you go," he said. "I will track you down and pull you apart piece by piece, until you beg for me death." 

"I never fail, my lord," Bianca reminded him. 

Wyatt grinned. "No," he agreed. "I don't suppose you ever do. Still, I can't send you off alone. Even for someone of your skill, my family is not to be trifled with." 

He nodded his head behind her and Bianca turned to look. A small army of demons stood behind her, each of them armed with some sort of sword, axe or scythe. 

"You see, all you have to do is open the door. My demons will do the rest," Wyatt said, his voice deceptively kind. Bianca often wondered if this is what Wyatt, Chris's big brother used to sound like, or if he'd been imitating emotion even then. 

Bianca reached down and swept the key up in her hand. It was coded to take her only one place at her next shimmer, and she had an army behind her blocking the only other way out. 

She had no time to warn Chris, and no way to warn the Charmed Ones. She could either die here now or she could do as she was told. 

She shimmered out, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to witness Wyatt's forming grin. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Bianca appeared in the center of an abandoned street, in what appeared to be one of the south-western states. She was not quite sure which one. The stucco-coated homes were probably nice once, uniform all along the street, but now they were broken and jagged. She felt the army appear behind her, but did not turn to face them. 

"Where are they?" she asked. 

One of the demons stepped up beside her. He nodded to one of the houses that was almost completely destroyed. "We just need you to get through the barriers on the door," he said.

Bianca couldn't tell if the house was glamoured to look destroyed, or if the Charmed Ones simply lived beneath it. It did not matter, in any case. She had no intention of venturing inside. 

She carefully took a mental count of Wyatt's guards behind her. There were forty-six in all—but nineteen of them, at least, she knew to be no threat to her at all. That left twenty-seven with skill enough to get in a lucky blow and kill her, and she'd be fighting them all at once. 

_Would you die for him?_ Wyatt had asked. He should have been more concerned how easily she answered yes. 

Bianca pulled out her athame and spun, slitting the throat of the demon beside her before he knew what happened. She continued in her turn, rolling and coming up in the middle of five of them. She kicked one in the jaw, knocking him into two others, then threw her athame into a third. It embedded itself in his eye, and she twirled around, snapping the neck of another before retrieving her athame again. 

She kept a mental count in her head. Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three, forty-two. She cut her way through them steadily until she'd killed nearly half and was almost starting to believe she might actually manage to make it out of this alive. 

Then the child appeared. 

He was only about seven or six, one of Paige's, if Bianca is recalling Chris's stories correctly. This would be Henry. He'd wandered out of the glamour into the street and stood frozen now, staring at the demons in terror. Bianca saw one of the demons throw an axe and spun, kicking it in the air to knock it off its course. It embedded itself in the wall right beside the child, and Bianca landed on the ground hard, trying to think of how she could get him back inside. 

She didn't have to think very long, because Paige appeared out of the air and pushed the boy back behind her. Phoebe appeared beside her along with one of her older girls. The demons paused for a moment, perhaps caught by the sight of the three of them, looking just like they were said to in stories. 

"You're messing with the wrong witches," Paige snarls, lifting her hands in warning. White magic fizzled along her fingertips, her orbing power increased by her anger. 

Bianca knew better than to waste time trying to explain that she wanted to help. She wouldn't be seen as any different by the Charmed Ones than the rest of them. Wyatt had said the key was set for the next time she shimmered—but that once she was here, she was free to leave. 

She reached up and gripped the key, disappearing just as she heard the fighting pick up again around her. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris paced his room anxiously. Andrew was leaning right up against his door, and without his tunnels or the amulet, he had no other way out. His orbing powers were being restricted by Wyatt's magic even within the bounds of the palace. He was trapped, and he didn't like it. 

Andrew wasn't a demon, but Chris knew he could kill him. Chris was more powerful, and Andrew wouldn't want to hurt him. He knew what Wyatt would do to him if he so much as scratched Chris. So Chris knew he _could_ do it, but should he? 

His hands weren't exactly clean after years pretending to be Wyatt's right-hand man, but he'd never actually killed someone flesh and blood. Demons didn't really count—he'd killed his first demon before he was ten. 

Chris took a deep breath and grabbed one of his old athames out of his desk drawer, sticking it down the back of his pants out of sight. Chris had stood back and watched his brother create chaos far too long, and he'd allowed it, refusing to take that final step himself. 

He needed to finally stop pretending. He couldn't let Andrew keep him here any long, he needed to get out of the palace and free his aunt before his brother took measures to keep them both locked up here for good. And he knew that once Wyatt was aware of the depth of his betrayal, he would lock him up and never let him out. He'd probably keep him in his little mausoleum, along with the Book of Shadows. He didn't want to think what he might do to Paige.

Chris stepped forward, preparing to push through the door and take out Andrew, when Bianca shimmered in front of him and fell into his arms. He grabbed her quickly, pushing them forward to sit her on the bed. "Bianca?" he asked urgently. "Bianca, what happened?" 

She was covered in blood and ash. Her athame was tightly gripped in her hand, its metal blade gleaming practically crimson. 

"He's found them," she gasped. 

"What are you talking? Who's found—" Chris started. 

"Paige managed to escape, but Wyatt's found her. He found all of them," Bianca said urgently. "Chris, he sent me to kill them. I tried to stop the others he sent, but there were too many of them and your aunts arrived before I could take them out." 

"Bianca…my aunts, are they—?" Chris tried to stay focused. He took a deep breath. "Is my family alright?" 

"They were still fighting when I left," she said. "I couldn't fight against the Charmed Ones and the assassins at the same time, and I knew it was no use trying to tell them I was there to help. But maybe you can." 

"Take me there," Chris said at once. 

Bianca reached out and grabbed his arm, shimmering them both back to the battle. Chris coughed as they appeared in the middle of the street, a strange, dark haze of ash hovering through the air. Bianca spun him out of the way just as an athame came flying by. 

"What is this?" he coughed, trying to see through the fog. 

"It's dark magic," Bianca said warily. "Cast by one of the demons to trap the Charmed Ones." 

Chris frowned into the dark, spinning as he noticed another demon coming at them out of nowhere. He reached back and grabbed his athame, tossing it straight at the demon's forehead before it could slice its scythe across Bianca's neck. 

Bianca watched the demon fall dispassionately, despite how close it had come to slitting her throat. "We need to clear this fog. Any ideas?" 

Chris frowned. "You said it was dark magic," he said. "So how about a little light?" 

He raised his hand, and a small white orb appeared hovering above his palm. Chris leaned forward and blew on it gently, sending it spiraling up into the air. It shot up twenty feet and then exploded out like an atomic bomb, pushing away the fog with a bright, brilliant white light. 

Chris didn't have long to celebrate his victory, because the scene his light revealed had his blood running cold. A demon had his little cousin Henry cornered, and he was thrusting forward with a long broadsword. There was no way he was going to reach him in time—even his orbs wouldn't be fast enough. 

The demon dragged the sword forward viciously, but it never touched Henry. 

Bianca had shimmered right in front of him. She glanced down at the sword sticking out of her chest, her eyes going wide with pain. Chris pushed forward with his hands on instinct, and the demon exploded at his command. He rushed forward and dropped down beside Bianca's side. 

"Oh god," he whispered, taking in how bad the injury was. There was no way she'd survive without magical intervention, and quick. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," Bianca said, trying to toss him a grin. She reached out for the handle of the sword and Chris quickly caught her hands. 

"No, leave it in, you'll make it worse," he said. "Daniel!" 

"I didn't know you could blow up demons," she said faintly, her eyes slipping closed. "Neat trick." 

"I didn't know I could do it either," Chris said. "Hey, stay with me. Daniel!" 

Daniel appeared beside him, his expression going serious the moment he caught sight of Bianca. "What happened?" he asked, as he kneeled beside her. 

"Questions later, "Chris said. "Get her to the school and heal her." 

"Not leaving you," Bianca said. "He can heal me here." 

"We can all go, just—" Daniel started. 

But Chris was already looking away, at where Henry sat, watching them all with disbelief. "I have to stay here," Chris said. "Now take her and go." 

"You're the boss," Daniel said sadly, and reached out to orb himself and Bianca to the school. 

"Chris," Henry whispered. 

"Hey, kiddo," Chris said. "I need you to orb back into the house." 

"They need my help," Henry said defiantly. "I'm not gonna abandon them like you." 

"Fair enough," Chris said, and waved his hand, orbing Henry back into the house. He pushed back to his feet, glancing around for his aunts. He'd worry about facing Henry's wrath later. He figured keeping Henry out of harm's way was gonna end up pretty low on his list of offences. 

He could see bursts of white magic flaring up down the street, and knew it had to be Paige. He started forward and was quickly waylaid by a group of demons. They looked terrified when they saw who he was, though Chris knew it wasn't him they were worried about. Wyatt liked to hold public executions for anyone that had allowed his little brother to be hurt.

"What the hell are you doing here?" one of the demons demanded. 

"Grab him, let's get him back to Wyatt," the other said. 

Chris flicked out his wrists to try and blow them up, but nothing happened. Of course. He sighed as the demons smirked and one of them rushed him. He started to orb, but the demon grabbed him around the waist before he could. There was no way he could orb out now without taking the demon with him. 

"My brother won't be happy if you've harmed me," he reminded him. 

"He'd be less happy if I let you get yourself get killed," he snarled. "We've already accidentally killed one of your little cousins, and that's bad enough. We ain't letting nothin' happen to you." 

"What?" Chris asked, paling as the words sunk in. "What have you done?" 

He fought viciously to break the hold the demon had on him, but the demon only laughed, his rancid breath tickling the back of his neck. "Easy now," he said with false sweetness. "Didn't I already say we ain't gonna hurt you?" 

"I've made no such promise," Chris snarled, snapping out his hands to blow up the other two demons with them. This new power was definitely tied into his anger, just as it had been with his mother. His captor was startled enough that he let him go, and Chris spun around and blew him up before he could recover and call for help. As the dust faded from the dead demons, he could make out the figure laid out in the middle of the street. 

It was one of Phoebe's daughter's, but it took a few more steps before he could see that it was Prue—and despite the demon's claims, she was still alive. 

He dropped down beside her, and it was the worst sort of déjà vu. From the look of it, Prue had even less time than Bianca. The athame looked dangerously close to her heart. "Daniel!" he shouted. 

"Chris," she whispered, her lips curling into a faint smile. "You're here." 

"Yeah, sorry I'm a little late," he said shakily. "What's happened?" 

"Wyatt sent an army after us," she told him, looking up at him with unfocused eyes. "We nearly had them before they put up that horrible fog and we all got separated. Was it you that cleared it?" 

"Yeah," Chris said. "Little trick I learned from a whitelighter friend. He's gonna be here any minute, you can meet him yourself. Daniel!" Chris looked behind him in frustration when he didn't appear. 

"I didn't think witches still had whitelighters," Prue said faintly. 

"He's one of the last, and he'll fix you, don't worry," Chris assured her. "I've seen him fix much worse than this. He'll be here soon." 

"He's not coming, Chris," Prue told him gently. "They've cut us off, but it's gonna be okay." 

"What?" Chris asked, before he felt it. There was a magical barrier around the street—Halliwell magic, so it must be his aunts. He would know if Wyatt were close enough to have it done it himself. They were blocking this place off so the demons couldn't get in or out, but it also meant that Daniel couldn't hear his calls. "No, we can't—I'll break it, just—" 

Prue reached out and weakly grabbed his wrist. "I always knew you would never betray us," she said softly. "I knew you were trying to save us." 

"I'm still going to save you," Chris decided. 

"There's nothing you can do," Prue said. 

It was true. Chris had never been able to heal, and he didn't think he was strong enough to break through his aunts' barriers. He never had been before. 

But there was one person even his aunts weren't strong enough to block. 

"Wyatt," he whispered, bracing himself. "Wyatt!" 

"Don't call for him," Prue said, reaching out to weakly clutch at Chris's shirt. "I don't want him." 

"He can heal you," Chris protested, his voice catching. "Please, Prue, you know I can't heal you. We have to call for him." 

"No," Prue said. "He's not Wyatt anymore. You know that better than any of us." 

"He will be again, though, okay, and he'll help us, I know he will," Chris said. 

"You still think there's good in him, don't you?" Prue asked. "I don't know why our family always had such trouble seeing that was why you went—not because Wyatt was evil, but for the parts of him that were still good." 

"Prue, please, he'll come, okay, he'll come—" 

"I want you to listen to me," Prue said, and he could tell she was trying so hard to keep her voice steady. "I know you've been trying to help us, but I don't think you can do it from Wyatt's side anymore. It isn't safe for you. You need to get out. Okay? Promise me?" 

"I promise," Chris said. "We'll be together now, okay, we'll fight him together." 

Prue just watched him pityingly. She was dying and somehow she felt sorry for _him_. "Right, the two of us. And there's another good witch we've been trying to find," she said gently. "His name is Perry. If you can find him, maybe he can help." 

Chris laughed through his tears, clutching Prue desperately. "Prue, I _am_ Perry." 

She gave him a beatific smile, reaching up to run her hand across his cheek. "Of course you are," she said, her chest hitching as she laughed, blood spotting her lips. "I should have known." 

Her hand fell away from his face as her eyes shifted and then stilled, the light catching off them like the eyes of a doll. Chris stumbled back off his knees, falling to the ground beside her. She was gone, and he knew even Wyatt couldn't save her now. He reached out with a shaking hand to close her eyes, before reaching for the athame to gently pull it out from her chest. 

"God, no." 

Chris glanced up to see Paige standing a few feet away, looking at him with horror. She looked barely able to stand, with blood half down her face, and her side burned and scorched. Phoebe stood beside her, not looking much better, one hand held to her mouth like she was holding in a scream. 

"Oh my god, you killed her," Paige whispered, but her voice sounded loud to him, stabbing straight through his heart. "She believed in you!" 

"What?" Chris asked, glancing down to the athame in his hands, realizing the scene Paige had stumbled on. "No, I—" 

"Athame!" Paige screamed, and the weapon disappeared from Chris's hand, and reappeared in hers. Paige didn't give him a chance to react before she launched it again, straight back at him. 

Chris watched it come, not even trying to stop it, though it occurred to him vaguely that he could. He was in shock, he realized, and he wasn't sure he cared. So he just watched, and waited for it to hit. 

It didn't. It slammed into a blue shield before it could touch him, and bounced straight back towards the ground. Chris glanced behind him in disbelief, to see a thunderous Wyatt standing behind him. 

"That was a mistake, Aunt Paige," Wyatt said dangerously, an energy ball spinning to life in the palm of his hand. "You should have known that going after Chris was the one thing I could never forgive." 

Chris hadn't been able to save Prue, but he could still save his aunts. He reached out desperately, latching onto Wyatt's ankle and closing his eyes. He felt his orbs surround them and pull them away just before Wyatt could take aim at Paige.


	3. A Selfless Propheteer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has to finally decide who he wants to be: Christopher Halliwell, or Perry.

Chris took them to Wyatt's office at his Underworld palace on instinct. He didn't need a key to orb inside, only to orb out, and despite everything the place had somehow become home. So he didn't even think about it, just went to orb them and ended up there. 

It was only once they arrived that he realized he had no way to get back out. 

He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He could still feel Paige's rage, and Phoebe's despair. He could still feel their sense of betrayal. He didn't have to be empathic, Phoebe had been projecting loud enough he was sure even a mortal would have felt it. 

And then there was Prue. 

Chris's breath hitched and he tried to push himself up, tried to organize his thoughts and come up with a plan, but he was barely on his feet before Wyatt sent him back to the ground with a vicious backhand. 

Chris caught himself on his hands, shaking his head to clear it, before biting at his newly split lip. Then he finally dared to glance up at his brother. 

He had rarely seen Wyatt in such a rage. There were faint, quicksilver sparks dancing around his fingertips. He looked possessed—his brown eyes shining weirdly blue. 

"Don't you ever interfere like that again," his brother said, his cultured, quiet voice sending chills along Chris's spine. It was the voice he used to recite spells, and it had a power behind it that made Chris question whether or not that was more than just a simple statement. "I was trying to _protect_ you, and now we have an enemy on the loose." 

"Paige," Chris said, his own voice cracking. He winced at the weakness in it, because the last thing he needed to show Wyatt now was weakness. "It was our Aunt Paige. Let's not pretend it wasn't." 

"I know very well who it was," Wyatt snapped. "I got quite the unobstructed view of her as she tried to _kill_ you." 

"She wasn't herself," he defended, even as his own heart was breaking. He pushed himself back up to his feet. "She's grieving, and she thought I—" 

"It's no excuse," Wyatt said. "She has to die. There's no other choice, now." 

"No, you can't," Chris protested instantly. "You promised. You promised to leave them alone." 

"Not at your expense," Wyatt said easily. "She's done this to herself." Wyatt turned to glare at him. "And it's not as though you've kept any of your promises to me of late. You should never have been there in the first place. How did you know they were there?" 

The answer came to him then. He could say that he heard Prue and went to save her. Wyatt wouldn't hold that against him, he'd understand. He'd probably pull him in for a hug and go on and on about how it's a shame about their dear little cousin but she just never _understood_.

Chris had the perfect lie, right there on the tip of his tongue, but for once he couldn't bring himself to tell it. 

He couldn't lie about this, not about her. He didn't care what it cost him. 

"I went there to stop you," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "How could you do that? They're our family!" 

"Family?" Wyatt scoffed. "What have they ever done for us? They had us risking our lives when we children, for their precious _innocents_. Well, what about us? Weren't we innocent?" 

"They never made us fight," Chris protested. 

"No, of course not," Wyatt said. "They just led all the demons to our front door, so that we never had any other choice. I'm not saying I'd change it. It's what made us what we are—it's what's given us this power. But don't fool yourself, Chris. They're not like us."

"They're not like us, no," Chris agreed. "But I'm not like you." 

"Have you not been at my side in this since the start?" Wyatt demanded. "Have you not orchestrated every battle I've had during my reign?" 

"I have," Chris said. "But it doesn't make us the same. Our reasons have always been different." 

Wyatt stared at him hard for a moment, before nodding and turning away. "I suppose they have," he said. "I know you've never really cared about powers. I've offered to get you more often enough." 

"They wouldn’t really be mine," Chris said. 

"Ah, and there it is, where we differ," Wyatt said wryly. "When you take something, Chris, it becomes yours. That's sort of how it works." Wyatt sighed and looked at his brother. "But really, that's probably why I trust you as much as I do. I know you're not here for power, so I can only assume you are here for me." 

Chris pressed his eyes shut. "Yes," he agreed. Wyatt was always his weakness. Sometimes he thinks about how he could have ended this all years ago, if he'd simply killed his brother in his sleep. Just one fatal twist of a knife, and hundreds of thousands of lives would have been spared. 

Chris didn't know what sort of person it made him, that he never even considered that an option. He supposed it's like Bianca told him: he's no better, not really. Just different. 

"Yes, all for you, Wyatt," he said quietly, keeping his eyes shut. "You've damned us both." 

"What's to fear in that, when I rule Hell?" Wyatt asked dismissively. "I want you to tell me everything that happened. We need to find our family, and fast, or there's no telling what trouble they might cause." 

"You think I'm going to help you?" Chris asked incredulously, opening his eyes to look at his brother in surprise. 

"You always help me," Wyatt reminded him. 

"I don't know where they went, not that I would tell you, anyway," Chris said tiredly. "And I don't know where they'd go, but I do know they're strong. And they know that you're coming for them. They won't be easy to find, and I won't be helping you do it. I don't want them dead." 

"I'm doing this for you." Wyatt glared at him. "Or have you forgotten that trying to kill you?" 

Chris laughed brokenly, leaning back against the wall of the office and allowing himself to slip down to the floor. "Yeah," he said. "Little hard to forget that. I remember." 

"But you'll still protect them," Wyatt demanded, just to be sure. 

"With my life," Chris said easily. "That's why I'm really here with you, Wyatt, that's why I went with you. I'm trying to keep us all alive." 

"You'll forgive me if your track record of keeping yourself alive doesn't inspire confidence, pretty sure it's usually me saving you," Wyatt said. "And I'm not going to let anything happen to you." 

"Why do you care?" Chris cried, holding in a hysterical laugh. Wyatt had been furious, was still furious, and yet here he was, still trying to protect Chris. Like he didn't know how not to. 

"You're my responsibility," Wyatt said simply. "Now, I need you to tell me how you got out of the palace." 

"You didn't find all my tunnels," Chris lied instantly, but he knew his mistake as soon as he did. Wyatt had always been the only one able to read him. Chris could still fool him, of course, had fooled him for years—but he only managed it by living in a world of half-truths. Wyatt often liked to claim that he was the only one Chris never lied to, and it was actually almost true. 

Chris rarely lied outright to his brother, because Wyatt would spot the lie every time.

Wyatt kneeled down in front of him, his head tilted, his eyes filled to the brim with false concern. "What aren't you telling me, Christopher?" 

"Nothing," Chris said. "What does it matter how I got out?" 

"It matters because I need to make sure it doesn't happen again," Wyatt said calmly. "How did you get out?" 

"With a key," Chris said. "I had a key. That's how." 

"I took it away," Wyatt said. 

"I found another," Chris said. 

"I keep track of all of them," Wyatt said calmly. "And there's only one unaccounted for." 

Chris held back a curse. "Wyatt—" 

"Bianca," Wyatt said, deadly calm. "She took you. That's how you got out of the palace. I should have known better than to trust her with a key." 

Chris glared at him but didn't bother to protest. Wyatt was never easily swayed, even by Chris. He knew when he'd hit upon the truth. 

"So that's a yes then," Wyatt said, when Chris said nothing. "You realize she'll have to die for this? And not pleasantly, if I have my way." 

"If you touch her—" Chris started with a snarl. 

"Our family I can almost understand, but you would choose some Phoenix over me?" Wyatt asked angrily. "You would fight me over her? That's what this is?" 

"If I have to," Chris said. "I won't let you hurt her." 

"You can't stop me," Wyatt said simply. 

"You only think that because I've never really tried before," Chris told him. He twisted his wrist and pushed his hand forward, sending Wyatt flying up and into the opposite wall. Wyatt stumbled to stay on his feet, blood starting to slip from his nose. 

Wyatt's eyes registered true surprise for just a moment before he managed to restore his lordly façade. His own hand snapped out, and invisible fingers wrapped themselves around Chris's throat. 

Chris choked as the air cut off, reaching up for his neck even though he knew there was no way to fight this sort of hold. He tried to speak, to say his brother's name, but he couldn't get out the words. The room started to blur, the edges of his vision darkening and going black. 

Then the hold was gone, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. 

"Guards!" he heard Wyatt yell, as his brother casually came to a stop in front of him. 

Chris stared at his boots, his head spinning too much to lift it any higher. 

"You see, Chris?" Wyatt asked quietly. "You know you can't win. Not against me." 

"Sire?" one of the demons asked politely. 

Chris bit back a laugh. Polite demons—only Wyatt could have inspired this sort of thing. It shouldn't have been as funny as it was. He wondered if maybe lack of air was making him delirious. 

He felt the demons grab his arms, dragging him up off the floor. "You gonna have me burned at the stake, Wyatt?" Chris asked hoarsely. "Or is it straight to the gallows with me?" 

"I'm sending you to the dungeons until you calm the hell down!" Wyatt shouted, reaching up to wipe the blood from his nose. "Take him. But I don't think I need to remind you that he's not be hurt."

"Of course, sire," the demon said, bowing lowly. 

Chris angrily pulled at his grip, even though he knew he wasn't getting free. "Wait, please just—" 

Wyatt held up a hand, stalling the demons progress. He moved back front of Chris. "Yes?" 

"Don't do this," Chris pleaded. "We can still make this right, Wyatt. Together, we can fix it. It's not too late." 

"That's where you're wrong. There's no going back," Wyatt said, almost kindly. "I told you that at the start. I thought you at least understood that." 

"I did," Chris said, as the demons started dragging him away again. "I guess I just didn't want to believe it." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt slumped down on his throne. He didn't know what he was going to do about his wayward brother. There was only so much he could allow before it started to make him look weak, and that was not something he could afford. Chris would need to be locked up until their family and Bianca were dealt with, certainly. 

And after they were dead, there wouldn't be any reason left for Chris to rebel. 

He glanced up as two of his guards dragged in a bloody Andrew and dropped him at his feet. 

"Well?" Wyatt asked lazily. "And what do you have to say for yourself?" 

"Sire? I have done nothing, I swear it," Andrew said, his voice trembling. He knew very well that few that had been dropped to kneel in front of his throne had ever rose again. 

"I can't argue with that. You certainly have done nothing," Wyatt agreed. "I don't see how else my brother could have snuck out right from underneath your nose." 

Andrew's eyes widened in horror. The fool hadn't known Chris was even gone, Wyatt realized with disgust. "Under usual circumstances, I would send you to be tortured until death," Wyatt sneered. "Fortunately for you, I have a task that would best fall to you." 

"Anything, my lord," Andrew said at once, though his eyes were growing more calculating than cowed. That was the trouble with his best people—Wyatt could never trust the cleverer ones. 

"You have one shot at redemption," he decided. "Bring me the Phoenix Bianca. You've worked with her before, you know her methods. I'd like her alive enough for questions, but that's negotiable. If she gives you trouble, I'll settle for her head." 

"And the Charmed ones?" Andrew asked quickly. 

"You wish to go after the Charmed ones?" Wyatt snorted. News traveled fast in the underworld. He threw Andrew a smirk. "Well, fail me in this, and I'll send you after them," he promised. "It'll save me the trouble of killing you myself." 

Andrew stiffened in irritation, but he didn't dare protest. Wyatt waved him away dismissively, and Andrew bowed lowly before slipping from the room. 

Andrew wanted his chance for glory, but Wyatt knew his family wouldn't be so easily done away with. He wasn't even certain Andrew would survive a confrontation with Bianca. He hadn't lied when he called her the best, and he thought she at least might actually have had a shot at killing the Charmed Ones, if she'd really been on his side. She was neutral and able to slip underneath their guard. He could always call upon her clan again to get another Phoenix, but Bianca was extraordinary even for her kind, and there were no others that he could trust, not after this. 

He should have known better than to send someone else in the first place. He hadn't wished to see them die, and that was weakness he could not afford. His family was too strong. 

And if he wanted them dead, it was obvious he was going to have to kill them himself. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris was laid out on the four-poster bed in his cell. He had his ankles crossed, and his hands resting underneath his head. He knew every in and out of this cell, because he'd spent no small amount of time here. Wyatt had his soldiers ward the dungeons, but this cell he'd warded himself. From the inside, it was orb-proof and power-proof and escape-proof. 

Chris had attempted to connect this cell to his tunnel system when he'd still had it, but no attempt had ever made it past his brother's magic. He knew there was no way to escape from here by himself.

So he was biding his time and waiting for his brother to show up, as he knew he would. There was no point banging his head against the wall until he got there. 

"Comfortable?" 

And there he was. Right on time. 

Chris turned his head to look at Wyatt. He was standing just outside the bars, looking serious and collected. Chris steeled himself against a hitch in his heart, afraid for a moment that his brother might be here to deliver news about Bianca or their family. 

"What do you want, Wyatt?" he asked. "Come to gloat?" 

"Just making sure you're okay," Wyatt said.

"Well, I'm not," Chris said, and returned his gaze back to the ceiling. "You can go." 

"You've got it the wrong way round, Christopher," Wyatt said. "You don't tell _me_ what to do." 

Chris laughed brokenly. "Oh, I am well aware," he said, pressing his eyes shut. "You should have just let Paige kill me, you know. Maybe we'd both be better off." 

Chris barely finished speaking and Wyatt was right in front of him, shimmered straight through the bars before his brother had time to move. He wrapped his hand in Chris's collar and dragged him up from the bed. 

"Don't you dare say that," he growled. 

"What is it you want from me, Wyatt?" Chris asked quietly. 

"I want my brother back!" Wyatt shouted, giving Chris a vicious shake. Wyatt's famous control seemed to have been stripped away, and his eyes were wild. He looked surprised at his own actions, and unconsciously loosened his grip. 

Chris took advantage of his distraction and untangled himself from Wyatt's hold. He pushed himself back along the bed, dropping down on the opposite side. It was barely even an illusion of protection against someone like Wyatt, but it made him feel better to have it between them all the same. 

"You don't care about our cousins. You don't care about your aunts. Why care about me? Why me?" he asked. 

"I have sworn to protect you," Wyatt told him. "I swore an oath and I will not break it." 

"An oath? To who? For what?" Chris demanded. "Do you even actually care? Or is this all about your stupid pride?!"

"Do not question me," Wyatt snapped. "I assure you, if I did not love you, you would be dead." 

"That's not as reassuring as you seem to think," Chris protested. 

Wyatt took a deep steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked calmer, but Chris knew not to trust the way he looked. Wyatt was even better at hiding his emotions than Chris himself. "I'm not here to argue with you," he said. "You said you had contacts in Perry's organization. I want to know who they are." 

"Since when do you worry about Perry?" Chris asked dismissively. "He's just some nothing witch, right?" 

"Paige has been working for him, so he has my attention now," Wyatt said. "She won't be easy to track directly, but I might be able to find her through him." 

"She hasn't been working for him," Chris said. "I already told you that." 

"Well you'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word," Wyatt said. "You've been lying to me." 

"Don't feel special," Chris said. "I lie to everyone." 

"Not to me," Wyatt denied, putting his hands firmly on the bed to lean forward and meet his brother's eyes. "You don't lie to me." 

"Fine," Chris said. "Paige is not working for Perry. Tell me, am I lying?" 

"I wish I could be sure," Wyatt said, after examining his Chris for any signs as he spoke. "But I can't trust anything you say. Not at the moment." 

"Then why bother to ask me questions?" he asked. 

"You're right," Wyatt decided. "How about you just listen for once?" 

Chris turned wary eyes on his brother. Inching back against the wall until he was almost in the corner. There wasn't really anywhere in this cell to hide from him. There wasn't really anywhere, actually, to hide from Wyatt. 

"Do you remember how our father died?" Wyatt asked casually. He asked it the way one might ask about the weather. 

"We don't talk about him, Wyatt," Chris said coolly. 

"Maybe we should," he said. "You seem to have forgotten why this all started. I think maybe you need the reminder." Wyatt crossed his arms. "I mean, I know he wasn't exactly vying for father of the year, but it has to bother you a little bit, doesn't it? What they did to him?" 

"He made his choices," Chris said. "He paid for them." 

"So heartless," Wyatt said, flashing a grin. "But then I never really told you the whole story. I gave you the sanitized version. Do you want to know what happened to him, in detail? Because it's not a pretty story." 

"I know what happened to him," he insisted. "This is pointless." 

"He'd been in the Underworld for weeks this time, looking for the demon that killed mom," Wyatt continued, undeterred by his brother's carefully concealed distress. "The Elders tried to force him back Up There, but he fought them. He fought them so hard they couldn't get him out, so they stripped his powers while he was still in the Underworld. They made him mortal, down here, and left him completely defenseless. I think he lasted maybe ten minutes." 

"Wyatt, stop," Chris said softly. 

"He called for me, but I didn't exactly come running when it was him, so by the time I got there it was already too late," Wyatt said. "I found him in three pieces, Chris. There was a fourth piece missing." 

Wyatt watched Chris carefully, trying to judge how much he was affected. He knew Chris and Leo had never been close. Chris had maybe seen him seven or eight times a year at the very most, and they spent most of it arguing. Wyatt had seen Leo more, but sometimes he wondered if he'd gotten the worst of it. At least Chris could ignore him. 

But it didn't matter that Leo was essentially a deadbeat dad, he'd still been their dad. And family was everything to Chris, so there was no way he was as calm as he'd like to pretend. 

"It would have been kinder if they'd just killed him themselves," he continued. "That I might have even forgiven, but this? What was I supposed to do? Just let that go?" He walked along the bed until he was level with his brother, then leaned back against the wall. "They were supposed to be the greatest force of good in the world, and they let our father get torn to pieces. And you think you understand what good is? You still think it's something that can be defined? You still want to split the world down the middle, good and evil, with nothing in between?"

Chris swallowed hard, refusing to look at Wyatt. 

"It's all the in-between, little brother," Wyatt whispered gently. "It's everything else that's the lie." 

"Don't do this," Chris said, because he knew where this was going. He knew Leo was just the starter story. It wasn't the one Wyatt would use to break him. 

Wyatt ignored him. "So I went Up There, and I found the Elders, and I ripped them apart, too. See, I had to be sure. I had to be sure they could never hurt us again." 

Chris finally looked up, his eyes blazing. "I don't need the recruitment speech," he said, his voice angry and rough. "As you're so fond of reminding me, I've been here since the beginning." 

"Yes, but you've forgotten why," Wyatt said. "I don't think you quite remember all they did." He leaned closer. "Leo was a bad example, huh? Can't quite muster up enough emotion to feel bad about his death, even now? Well, how about mom?"

"Don't you dare bring her into this," Chris snarled, as he stood up straight to face Wyatt. 

"The Elders wouldn't let me heal her," he said, as though Chris had not spoken. "I tried for hours, do you remember? By the end we were both soaked in her blood, and we were screaming for them, and no one came." 

Chris pressed his eyes shut tightly for a moment. "She was already dead by the time you got there," he said, his voice breaking over the words. "Her soul was already gone. Nothing they could do. Nothing you could have done." 

"There was plenty they could have done!" Wyatt yelled. "They wouldn't even let us summon her!" 

"And now that you've destroyed the Elders we never will!" Chris screamed back at him. He braced himself against the cell wall. Then he kicked out with one of his feet, knocking the bed a foot forward and sending Wyatt stumbling back. 

Wyatt caught his balance easily enough, and turned to glare at his brother. "You're obviously upset, so I'm going to let this go," he said calmly. "We'll address this again after you've had some time to think everything over. If that doesn't work, I'm going to have to resort to other means." 

Chris laughed desperately. "Other means," he said tiredly. "Sure. That's your euphemism for torture, right?" 

"Stop being so dramatic, Christopher," Wyatt said. "You know I won't have you tortured." 

"Then exactly what other means are there?" he demanded. 

"Just a week ago, we were fine," Wyatt said simply, and it sounded like a non sequitur, but Chris had a terrible feeling he knew exactly where this was going. "Three days ago, even, you would have done absolutely anything for me." 

"You can't," Chris said shakily. "You wouldn't!" 

"I don't want to," Wyatt said. "But I will." 

"You're actually going to erase my memories?" Chris shouted. 

"Only some of them," Wyatt answered levelly. 

"You would really do that to me? Your own brother?" Chris asked, and he didn't know why this was so much worse than torture, but somehow it was. "You'd just—" 

"If that's what I have to do to save you from yourself?" Wyatt asked. "Then yes. Absolutely. You have one chance to prove you can still be trusted. Or I'm going to take the matter out of your hands." 

"You bas—" Chris started. 

"Just tell me what you know about Perry," Wyatt broke in. "And we can put this all behind us." 

"You think if I could tell you, it would fix this," Chris said. "But I can promise that you're wrong about that." 

"It'll take a few hours to make the memory potion," Wyatt said after a moment. "So you have until midnight to decide what your answer to me is going to be." 

Wyatt turned to go, vanishing in a shimmer to appear back on the other side of the cell. Chris slid over the top of the bed and pushed himself forward to reach the bars. "And what are you going to tell me about Prue?" he called after him. 

"I'm going to tell you the truth," his brother said, pausing to look back at him. "Bianca betrayed me and it got her killed." 

"That's not the truth," Chris snarled. 

"She betrayed me when she took you from here," Wyatt said. "And Prue got caught in the crossfire because she didn't do her job. The kids weren't supposed to be hurt." 

"I won't believe you," Chris said. 

"Yes, you will," Wyatt said. "I learned to lie from the best." 

Chris rested his head against the bars as Wyatt walked away, and he was unable to shake the feeling that Wyatt was right. A week ago Chris wouldn't have thought even Wyatt capable of this. He'd truly believed that killing family was where Wyatt would draw the line. 

And if Wyatt had his way, by tomorrow he'd believe it again. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Bianca stared down the length of the abandoned street, her hand flexing almost compulsively around the athame she held. 

Daniel had taken her straight to the high school hide-out at Chris's request, and it taken far too long to heal her nearly fatal wound. By the time she had managed to push away from his healing hands and get to her feet, the way back here had been blocked by the Charmed Ones. 

She'd tried to shimmer somewhere nearby to make her way on foot, but she had not been able to make it in time. By the time she got close enough and the barrier was down, there was no one left. 

She had searched the abandoned house of the Charmed Ones, but there had been no clues about where they might be now. They had left everything behind. School books had been open on the table, tennis shoes untied and thrown in the corners of half the rooms. There had been a picture on the fridge, drawn carefully by young hands in red crayon, of the sun rising up over the horizon. 

More lives interrupted, more people being hunted. Bianca had no idea if they even still lived, and if they did if Chris was with them, or back with Wyatt. Daniel had told her before she left that they had not heard from any of their spies for the last day and a half. 

Wyatt had the palace on lock-down, but that could be either to keep Chris in or because he was trying to find him again. 

She was beginning to think she would have to fight her way back into Wyatt's palace, despite it almost certainly being suicide, when she finally caught a lucky break.

Most people would not consider an assassination attempt a lucky break—but to Bianca the occurrence was hardly notable. Andrew was powerful and skilled, but he was also overconfident and out of practice. 

She felt him begin to take form behind her and spun before he fully arrived, twisting his wrist until it broke and he dropped his knife. She pulled up her leg and kicked it down, blowing out his knee and sending him screaming towards the pavement, moving her athame to rest at his neck just as his shimmering form fully coalesced. 

"Hello, Andrew," she said sweetly. "Long time no see." 

"You bitch," he snarled, struggling in her grip. 

She tilted her head as she watched him. "Did Wyatt send you?" 

"No, I'm just here for some sight-seeing," he sneered. "Thought I'd stop by the Grand Canyon." 

Bianca flexed her fingers, slowly sliding his broken wrist bones further out of place. "Do you know what it feels like to have a Phoenix reach inside of you, and drain your magic bit by bit?" she asked, her voice falsely pleasant as his eyes widened from the pain. "You look uncomfortable, Andrew. I can promise you, the pain of a few broken bones is nothing compared to what I'll do to you if you don't rethink that answer." 

"Yes, of course he did," he answered. "What the hell do you think?" 

"Where is Chris?" she demanded. 

"Chris, is it?" Andrew laughed, despite his pain. "Pretty familiar terms for the rebellious little prince, don't you think?" he asked. "What would our Lord Wyatt say?" 

Bianca moved her foot back to Andrew's knee, applying pressure until she felt the bones start to give and shift beneath her boot. "You want to try that again?" 

"Wyatt's got him locked up," he said reluctantly. "And if you're thinking of getting him out, you're even crazier than people say. He's got so many wards around that kid you could wander the dungeons for hours and never find him."

"You let me worry about that," Bianca said. She was more than a little familiar with Chris's wing in the dungeons. She'd been known to drag him there herself, a time or two. "Did Wyatt send you to bring me back dead or alive?" 

"Didn't seem too concerned either way," Andrew admitted. "I was hoping for dead, personally." 

She was about to ask another question when Andrew made his move. She really hadn't expected it of him, and she had to give him credit. He used her hold on him to his advantage, even as his movements pulled his bones fully out of joint. He twisted his broken wrist back, pulling her off balance, and then pushed up, blowing out his knee even as he knocked her back. 

She staggered for a moment before launching herself right back at him, trying to grab him before he could shimmer out. She caught hold of something just as he fell away from her, dissolving in a quickly disappearing black cloud. Her momentum carried her forward now that he wasn't there to stop her fall, and she slammed into the pavement hard. 

She rolled herself angrily onto her back, taking a moment to catch her breath. Then she glanced at her hand to see what she had managed to grab off him before he shimmered away. 

It was one of Wyatt's keys. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris heard footsteps and angrily clenched his hands to fists. "It's not midnight yet, Wyatt," he said. 

"It is not yet midnight," a voice agreed. "And I am not Wyatt." 

Chris was on his feet instantly, his hands going up defensively even though his powers were useless in this cage. He saw a figure half in shadow, but he could see enough to make out the long, weirdly pristine white dress that she was wearing. 

He'd seen her before, would know her from that dress anywhere. No one was allowed to speak with her but Wyatt, not even him. 

Bianca called her the White Shadow.

She stepped closer to the bars, the light glancing across her strange black eyes. "Hello, Christopher." 

"Do we know each other?" he asked. 

"No, but I do know you," she explained. 

Chris cautiously stepped closer to the bars. "Did Wyatt send you?"

She tilted her head. "Wyatt has forbidden me to speak to you." 

Chris stopped in front of the bars, watching her warily. "It's generally not a great idea to do something Wyatt has forbidden." 

"Look who's talking," she answered wryly. 

"Right," Chris said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "I really don't—" 

Her hand snapped out between the bars, her cold fingers latching onto his chin to tug him forward. "I know what you are," she told him. "I have kept all your secrets from him but one, but there is something you must know. There are prophecies also for you." 

"Let me go," Chris said, gently trying to pry her fingers off. "I think you've got the wrong brother." 

"You are the savior of this world, whether you want the job or not," she said. "You have time in your blood, and you are running out of it." 

"Good to know," Chris said. "You want to let me go now?" 

She released him, putting her hands up in a mockery of surrender. "I am not like a seer, they can see in only one direction. I see the past as clear as the future. Your brother started down this path almost before he could walk, sometime in the year before your birth." 

Chris wrapped his hands around the bars, pushing closer so he could watch her. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Why are you telling me this?" 

"You have a right to know," she explained. "You have a right to know that you will die if you try to save him." 

He stared at her, trying to read her, but there was nothing there to read. There was nothing in her eyes but blackness, and she gave nothing away in her cold, stern expression. He did not know if this was a trick of Wyatt's, but if it was he couldn't imagine what he hoped to gain. 

"You say I'll die if I try," Chris said after a moment. "But will I save him?" 

Her expression shifted so quickly he almost didn't catch it, just a flash of a grin, so fast it might have been a muscle tick. "You ask better questions than your brother," she said. "But my visions give more questions than answers. I cannot tell you all you wish to know." 

"Then just tell me what you can," he said. 

"You will be the catalyst, of the destruction, and of the re-making," she said. "But you will never see the world you create. You will die by the blade of a cursed athame, in the presence of an Elder and a child. Your aunt will cry for you, but the wound will not heal." 

Chris closed his eyes and leaned his head against the bars. It didn't come as a surprise, but it was still hard to hear that it was certain. He supposed it was bound to happen. Halliwells had a bad habit of dying young. 

"I am sorry," she said. "For what happens to you." 

"You never explained why you're here," he said quietly, glancing back over at her through the bars. "Why come tell me this?" 

"Your brother has made me relive your death a thousand times," she said. "I have felt your pain almost every day this last year." 

Chris frowned, wondering what that must be like, to constantly feel another's pain. He was suddenly seeing her stern, emotionless expression in a whole new light. "I'm sorry." 

"And that is why I am here," she answered. "Because I just told you that you are going to die, and you are sorry for me." 

Chris snorted. "Yeah, well, I know you're the big time prophet and all, but I didn't actually need you to tell me I was gonna die," he said. He flashed a sad grin. "Figured that one out for myself." 

"And it changes nothing?" she asked. 

"Could I change it?" he countered wryly. 

"It is unlikely," she said. "I would have said impossible, once. But your brother believes he can do it, and there is very little he cannot do." 

"If I stay here, under his thumb, for the rest of my life," Chris realized. 

"That is his plan, yes," she agreed. "I cannot say for certain that it would not work, though my visions have never been wrong before." 

"It probably would work, I'd just never allow it. Guess that's where the certainty comes into play," Chris said, pushing back from the bars to spin in place. He scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Don't worry. I think your track record will stay intact. I'm not planning to stick around to be his puppet, if I can help it." 

It made sense now, at least, why Wyatt was always so fiercely protective. He'd been living with the knowledge that Chris was going to die for a long time. Chris probably would have gone a bit off the deep end trying to protect Wyatt, too. 

"He does love you," she said quietly. 

"Yeah," Chris agreed, dropping down on the floor to lean back against the bed. "Don't really know if that makes it better or worse." 

"I have always felt it was better to die for love," she said. "It seems better than to die without it." 

Chris looked up to respond, but she was already gone. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

The ingredients for the Memoria Oblitus potion were not exactly easy to come by. He'd had to send out twenty demons to search for the last ingredient, and only three of them had come back alive. The claw of a dragon was not easily acquired even in a world where Wyatt had mostly tamed them. He had no fear of dragons, but he also hadn't taken over the entire world just so he could run his errands for himself. 

"You think this will save him," the prophetess said from behind him. 

If she'd meant to surprise him, she would be sadly disappointed. Her magic was like a siren's song, and if he wanted, he could hear it from half a world away. Wyatt ignored her instead, dropping the claw into the potion. It dissolved into the deep purple liquid, melting to a dark, greenish black that swirled around the center and then sunk down inside the rest. It boiled steadily, slowly turning purple once more. 

"I know this will save him," he said. "He's angry about our family. He never understood what they were really like—he didn't understand that it was always just us." 

"Because you protected him from them," she said.

"Yes," Wyatt agreed tightly, glancing behind him. She was, in some ways, the only one he could really confide in. There was very little he could tell her, that she did not already know. " _I_ protected him. When Leo was supposed to be there and he wasn't, I was there. When Paige and Phoebe got so wrapped up in their own lives we might as well been strangers, I was the one that looked out for him! When our mother died, I am the only one that came when he called!" 

"And yet you still have to share his love with them," she said. "And now also with her." 

"Bianca is not a problem," Wyatt said, calming down as the subject turned to something he could control. "Soon she will be dead, and Chris won't remember why that should matter." 

"Christopher Halliwell has a destiny," she told him, walking in half circle behind him. "He is not like you. He plans to fulfill his."

Wyatt returned his attention back to the potion. It had begun to bubble rapidly. He tried not to wonder what his mother would think of him making this to use on Chris—he often tried not to think about her. She was the only regret he really had. Still, he knew there was one thing they would have agreed upon on even now.

Chris had to be protected, no matter the cost. 

"If you do not have any new information for me," he said, "then there is no reason for you to be here. I'm not keeping you here to be my therapist." 

He pulled the pot off the fire, and carefully poured the liquid into a small glass carafe. He had made enough that he will have extra for years, though he did not want to have need to use it again. He looked up when he realized the woman had not left. She stood just a foot behind him, eerily silent, staring straight in front of her. 

He did not know exactly what she was. The man that had sold the prophetess to him had claimed she was mortal once, and had been cursed. He had never confirmed the story one way or another. He only cared about her so long as she could help him save his brother. 

Now, he wondered if maybe he should have taken the time to learn more about her. 

"I wish to be alone," he told her. It was kinder than he would have been with almost anyone else, because he understood exactly what her value was, but when she did not move he grew impatient. "Prophetess —" 

"I have seen no more of your brother," she admitted. "But I had a vision last night of myself."

Wyatt stepped aside, gathering up the leftover ingredients to store them away in case he needed to make more. "Oh?" he asked dryly. "Let me guess, I killed you for disturbing me?" 

It didn't really concern him that there was no response. Prophets made for terrible conversationalists, as general rule, but then he heard shattering glass. He spun around just in time to see the carafe break apart upon the ground, the woman's eyes flickering strangely in the light. 

"Yes," she answered calmly. 

The potion was nowhere to be seen—she had swallowed the entire batch. Wyatt felt his own fury and fear rise up as he stomped towards her. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he yelled. "Do you know how powerful this potion is? I was going to give my brother just a drop, and that would have still taken weeks!" 

"Yes, my lord, I knew," she said, turning to face him, her black, sightless eyes seeking his. "I know also that I cannot help you any longer. The potion takes my vision even now, and you can no longer use it on him." 

"I can make the potion again," Wyatt snarled, grabbing onto her arms to give her a rough shake. "You've done nothing at all but destroy yourself." 

"You think I did it to save him?" she asked wryly. "I know better than anyone that he cannot be saved. I did it for myself, because I saw it. I saw myself find peace." 

"There will be no peace for you if you do not help me now," Wyatt said. "I can promise you that. I will drag you from the afterlife myself." 

"I should never have told you what happened in the past," she said, her voice already growing fainter. 

"You've told me nothing of the past!" Wyatt shouted. "Tell me the future, now. Tell me who kills my brother!" 

"I have already told you that he dies for you," she said. 

Her eyes used to look like glass marbles, but the sheen was slipping away. The deep, fathomless black had gone static, with small purple spider web cracks creeping towards the center from the sides. 

"I am sorry that he has to die, but he is just among the first," she told him, as she started to go limp in his hold. Wyatt kept his grip on her as she fell slowly, and he followed her down. "We're all going to die for you." 

Wyatt's hands reached up to grab at her face, turning her head towards the light. Purple slips of tears had started to leak from her eyes, and he knew ingesting that much of his potion was more than just suicide. It was obliteration. 

He didn't think there was anything that could bring her back from this, but that wouldn't stop him trying. He let his power flow out of his fingertips, the dim, healing blue glow surrounding her as he tried to drag her back. 

"Stay here, you're not going anywhere yet," Wyatt commanded, gripping her desperately. "I still need you. You have to tell me what you know of my brother. Tell me what you have seen that you have done this." 

"I do not remember now," she said, her voice taking on a sleeping lilt. "I think I have forgotten his face." 

Wyatt angrily pulled his power back inside. If she could not remember her vision, if she no longer had the sight, there would be no reason to keep her here now even if he could. 

"Then there's no use to you," Wyatt snarled, and slammed her head down against the floor until it cracked. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"Chris?" 

The voice sounded like something from a dream. That was the voice Wyatt used to have, before their mother bled out on the kitchen floor. Before Leo destroyed himself in a useless attempt to avenge her. 

That was his brother's voice. 

Chris glanced up, blinking back the tears he'd been holding at bay for years. He was still sitting on the ground where the prophet had left him, one leg splayed out in front of him and the other held against his chest. He could hide his emotions from his face, but he could never hide them from Wyatt. 

"What happened?" Wyatt asked gently. "Are you alright?" 

It would be so easy to let that voice draw him in. He could so easily become Lord Christopher once again, and let everything go back to the way it was. But Chris couldn't let himself be fooled—all he had to do was look a little closer, and he could see the signs that nothing had changed. Wyatt may sound like the brother he used to know, but this one had blood drying beneath his fingernails. 

"I don't like it in here," Chris answered. "You know that. That's why you put me here." 

Wyatt sighed, as though Chris were the one being difficult. "Have you come to a decision?" 

"Yes. You win," Chris said, his voice almost too quiet to be heard. "I'll do whatever you want, Wyatt, okay? You win." 

Wyatt narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you." 

Chris laughed, glancing away. "Right, of course not," he said. "You've already made your decision, so I don't know why you bothered to ask. I guess this is the part where you force the potion down my throat?" 

"I thought we would try something else first," Wyatt told him. 

"You thought…" Chris frowned, before he let his calculating gaze fall across his brother. His brother was many things, but he never went back on his word, not even the times that Chris had begged him to. "Oh…oh, that is priceless. You don't have it. What happened, mess up the recipe? Potions never really were your strong suit, were they? Required a bit too much patience. Paige always said you'd pay for it later if you didn't practice." 

His brother glared at him. It used to be they would tease each other like that all the time. Wyatt might have replied: _Whatever, Chris, at least my spells don't sound like they were written by someone in the third grade._

Now his brother just stared him down, and Chris wished not for the first time that he could learn to keep his mouth shut. He was good at this game, one of the best, but somehow Wyatt always managed to shove him back into that role of little brother. He could be Chris Halliwell, and Perry, and Lord Christopher to the rest of the world, but he was always just Wyatt's little brother when he was with Wyatt. 

"Making the potion is not going to be a problem," Wyatt finally said, and Chris could tell he was holding onto his temper. "Keep it up and I might end up giving you more of it than I'd planned. You were a lot better behaved a couple years ago." 

"Why stop there?" Chris asked bravely. "Why not take it all? Then I'll be whatever you want me to be." 

"Enough," Wyatt snapped. "Give me your hand, Christopher." 

The use of _Christopher_ was a warning that he didn't miss, but he tensed against the bed instead of moving closer. He didn't like the look in his brother's eyes. "Yeah, right," he said. "I don't think so." 

"It wasn't a request," Wyatt said calmly. "Come here. Now."

Chris swallowed and slowly got to his feet. He knew there was no point resisting. Wyatt would just force him if he tried to fight, and without access to his powers he knew he wouldn't win. He didn't stand much chance against Wyatt even at full strength. 

He stopped right in front of the bars, but didn't lift his hand. 

Wyatt impatiently reached through the bars and grabbed his arm, tugging it outside the cell. He slapped his hand against Chris's wrist, and at first he didn't understand what had happened, but when Wyatt moved his hand away again there was a thin silver bracelet in its place. 

Chris pulled away from Wyatt with a startled cry with it came to life, thin blue sparks of power running up his arm. "Sonofa—" 

"Language," Wyatt tsked. 

"What the hell is this thing?" Chris demanded, tugging at the thin silver ring. He couldn't see a clasp, it looked solid all the way around. It had the same worryingly strange comforting feel that all of Wyatt's magic did. 

"I said you don't lie to me," Wyatt said. "Now you can't." 

"Oh, you are kidding," Chris said in disbelief. "It's a truth bracelet!?" 

"That's rather simplistic, but yes, essentially," Wyatt said. "You tell a lie, and you're gonna get another little shock." 

"Why not just use a truth spell?" he asked. "Isn't this kind of overkill?" 

"Truth spells can backfire and they wear off, this won't," Wyatt said simply. "Now I'm going to ask you again: Do you really intend to rejoin me?" 

"Yes!" Chris insisted, only to cry out as the bracelet sparked to life once again. He pressed his eyes shut, his arm shaking with the aftershocks. It wasn't overly painful, it was a little like a stronger than usual static shock, but this one was a bit worst than the first. He was getting a bad feeling it might be cumulative. 

"Are you sincere in saying that you will rejoin me?" Wyatt asked again.

"No," Chris bit out. 

"So telling me I win, acting so defeated," Wyatt said. "You were trying to play me." 

"I just want out of this cell," Chris told him honestly. 

"Yes or no," Wyatt snapped. 

"You didn't ask a question," Chris said, with a glare at his brother. 

"Were you playing me?" he growled. 

"Yes," Chris said reluctantly. 

Wyatt cursed angrily, his fingertips lighting up as energy began to collect in the palms of his hands. He pressed his eyes shut, closing his hands to fists and pushing the magic back inside. "Why?" he demanded. "Why are you fighting against me all of the sudden?" 

"I'm not fighting against you," Chris protested instantly, before biting his lip to hold in a scream as the shock slammed up his arm. "Jesus Christ, Wyatt!" 

"Answer me," Wyatt said calmly. "And if you don't want to keep getting hurt, try the truth this time." 

"Why the hell do you think?" he asked, holding his arms as the aftershocks finally started to die down. "You're going after our family!" 

"We are all the family that we have!" Wyatt yelled. The walls around them began to tremor at the force of his shout, dust falling down on them as it was shaken loose from the ceiling. "They mean nothing. They are nothing." 

"That's not true," Chris said, his voice shaken. "You can't believe that. You can't—" 

"Where have they been, Christopher?" Wyatt demanded. "Where has your precious family been the last two years? They left us down here alone. They could have joined us. They could have come here any time at all. I'm not exactly hard to find." 

"You think you're not betraying them," he realized. "Because you think they've already betrayed you." 

"Haven't they?" he demanded. "And now they're working with Perry!" 

"They're not working with Perry," Chris said. 

Wyatt paused for a moment, looking in surprise at the bracelet, which remained dormant. "Well, that is interesting," he said. "Whether it's true or not, you really believe that." 

"Of course I believe it!" Chris insisted. "This is our family. You can say they're not as much as you like, but you know the truth. Hell, I can't lie to you right now, right? So listen to me. _They're our family_." 

Chris was starting to get his equilibrium back. All good liars knew how to twist the truth—and Chris had always been one of the best. He just had to side-step the questions he got, and hope that Wyatt didn't start to ask any of the right ones. 

"We don't have to hurt our aunts, okay?" he tried. "They're not a threat to you. Their power is nothing next to yours. Never has been."

"Mercy is not in my nature," Wyatt said. "And the fact that they cannot hope to defeat me is not reason enough to spare them. It is enough that they would try. It is enough that Paige aimed that athame at _you_." 

"I forgive her for that," Chris said. 

Wyatt laughed when the bracelet didn't so much as twitch. For all of his wary, sarcastic bluster, his brother was still such an innocent. His brother was a Halliwell straight down to the heart. "Of course you do," he said, his voice turning patronizing. "You always do. But I can't let this go. I won't. You're wasting your time." 

Chris glared at him, crossing his arms and looking away. He knew he couldn't help his aunts' case from here. Paige striking out to kill him was still a little too fresh in Wyatt's mind, and it was probably best not to draw more attention to it. He had to distract him long enough to find a way to talk himself out of this bracelet. 

"If you had something like this, why have you never used it before?" Chris asked, gesturing to the bracelet. 

"I have other more effective ways of getting people to talk," Wyatt said. "I made this especially for you, because I needed a way to get the truth from you without hurting you too badly." 

"It hurts enough," he snapped. 

"So stop lying, and it'll stop," Wyatt said. "Tell me what you know of Perry."

Chris turned to him with wide eyes. "What? What do you want with him? I thought we already went through this?" 

"We did," Wyatt said patiently, "when you could lie to me. This time I'd like the truth." 

"People say he's powerful," Chris said carefully. "I've heard he's been rescuing prisoners from you for the last year." 

"Do you know where I can find him?" Wyatt asked. 

Of course he asked that. Of course. Chris let his arms fall to his sides. If he screwed this up, it was going to hurt like hell, but the bracelet would probably end up being the least of his problems. 

"No one can find him, because there is no Perry," Chris said, and the bracelet did not even tremor. Daniel thought him maladjusted because he could so easily separate himself and Perry out, but now it might be the very thing that saves him. 

"What?" Wyatt demanded in surprise. 

"Perry isn't a person, he's just an idea," Chris told him. "And you can't fight against an idea. Not even you." 

Wyatt narrowed his eyes. "You're being metaphorical to fool the bracelet," he snapped. "There is a witch named Perry. He has been seen." 

"There is a witch that calls himself Perry," Chris corrected. "But it's the cause that should concern you."

"His little rebellion is no threat to me," Wyatt said dismissively. 

"Good. Glad to hear you say that," Chris said, holding up his shackled wrist. "So how about you take this thing off?" 

"I think I like the results a little too much to give my advantage up that easily, little brother," he said. "But let's move on. Where is Bianca?" 

"I don't know," Chris answered instantly. 

"Where do you think Bianca is?" he corrected easily. 

"With the Resistance," Chris said reluctantly, fighting back a curse. He just hoped Wyatt didn't guess Chris might know enough about them to ask where that might be. 

"How did she meet up with them?" Wyatt asked, instead, and Chris looked away to hide his relief. 

"She was saved by a whitelighter when one of your demons almost got her killed," he answered. "Since you don't exactly hand out membership cards to whitelighters, I'd say he's working with the other side." 

"Bianca, with the Resistance," Wyatt said slowly. "If you weren't wearing that bracelet, I'd never believe it. And I didn't think there were any full whitelighters left. " 

Chris bit his tongue to keep from commenting. It was unlike him, but he knew better than to press his luck. He had to keep his focus on answering Wyatt's direct questions, and he couldn't risk giving any more away. There was no telling how this bracelet would react to sarcasm. 

Wyatt turned to him shrewdly, sensing he was holding back. "I think I like you like this," he said. "Not so many smart remarks. I mean, there's still plenty, but you're almost well-behaved."

"Does it amuse you to taunt me?" Chris demanded. "Is this fun for you?" 

"I am doing this to keep you safe," he said calmly. "Everything— _everything_ —I have done, has been to keep us safe." 

"You can't control everything," he said sadly. "It doesn't matter how powerful you are, Wyatt. It doesn't matter that you have the whole world under your reign, you're still _not in control_." 

"Maybe not everything," Wyatt allowed. "But I don't care about most things, Christopher. I do care about you, and you are very much in my control." 

Chris couldn't really argue with that. Before he would have said that Wyatt had no real control over him, that it was all just an illusion Chris allowed so he could do what he needed to do. But the only way Chris had ever been able to play Wyatt was with the truth, and he'd been a prisoner here since long before he got locked in this cell. 

"Can you take it off now?" Chris demanded, pointing to the bracelet. 

"I don't see why I should," Wyatt said. "It will do nothing so long as you tell the truth. Is that really so hard for you?" 

"Actually, yes," Chris snapped, because there'd be no point in lying that it wasn't. 

Wyatt looked about to answer when his gaze went distance, and he glanced away with a frown. Chris recognized the signs of someone calling out to him. Wyatt did not care much for his whitelighter blood: he rarely orbed, and except for Chris he only ever used his healing power to extend a torture session—but Wyatt did use the ability to hear others call for him. He always claimed it was so much more convenient to have his most trusted demons report to him that way. 

"What's going on?" Chris asked quickly.

Wyatt held up a hand to silence him, still listening. Then he frowned and glanced back at his brother. "I have to go," he said. "Do you need anything?" 

"Yeah, I need to know what's going on," Chris said, wrapping his hands around the bars. 

"You're not my second right now, Chris," Wyatt said simply, stepping up to him "You're just my baby brother, and I really hope you use this short reprieve to reconsider." 

Before Chris could respond, Wyatt reached through the bars and grabbed his shirt to tug him closer. "But it's really not going to be that much trouble for me to erase these last couple of weeks, if you don't. Things will be so much better, for us both, if I do. I don't know why you fear it so much." 

"My memories are who I am," Chris said, his voice taking on a desperate edge as he slammed the palm of his hand against the bars. Still, he knew better than to try and pull away. 

"Exactly," Wyatt agreed, casually letting him go. "And I miss who you were." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris did not know what had called Wyatt away, but he knew it was a chance he couldn't allow to slip by. His brother wasn't getting yet just how much Chris knew, but with this bracelet, he wouldn't be able to avoid the truth forever. Eventually Wyatt was going to ask a question he couldn't avoid. 

He couldn't stay here. Either Wyatt would erase his memories, or he'd keep asking questions, or he'd do a little of both—and Chris couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk losing his secrets either way. He couldn't afford to forget them and he sure as hell couldn't afford to give them away, he had far too many people counting on him. 

He remembered Prue's last moments: _I don't think you can do it from Wyatt's side anymore, she'd said, you need to get out…Promise me._

And he had promised her. He'd promised that he'd fight. He'd promised to _do something_ , and yet here he was, giving in before he'd even tried.

Chris knew he didn't have the power to get out of this cell on his own, but that didn't necessarily mean there wasn't any way out at all. He'd made a life of finding clever ways to get around stronger magic, and this shouldn’t be any different just because it was Wyatt's.

Wyatt's. _Wyatt's magic_ , Chris thought, and it hit him. 

He slowly lifted his hand, frowning as he examined the bracelet his brother had shackled him with. This was Wyatt's magic, all stored up in a small silver band, and it was strong and getting stronger. Each lie had packed a bit more of a punch. 

He looked back to the bars. The warded shield was about a foot outside the bars, a bit of a stretch, but not unreachable. Wyatt had offset it to avoid Chris hitting it unintentionally, but _intentionally_ , he was pretty sure he could reach it. 

He approached the bars slowly. If this worked, it was going to hurt. The warded cell had the side effect of cutting him off from his bond with his brother, but if he got it down then Wyatt would know immediately that something was wrong. He'd have seconds, maybe, to orb away, and Wyatt would sense that too. 

He couldn't orb out of the palace without a key, and he couldn't run and risk meeting the guards. He did have a hidden room in one of the lower levels, warded almost as much as this cell, where he stored various paraphernalia he used as Perry—but it was getting there, before Wyatt got to him, that was the issue. 

Not to mention, without his tunnels, even if he made it to the room, he'd have nowhere to go from there. 

As plans went it was one of his worse ones, but he was out of choices. Wyatt had left him no options, and not even his default strategy of lying was going to get him out of this one. For years Chris had convinced himself he wasn't able to do what was right, that he had to do what was less wrong, because doing what was right was a surefire way to get himself caught. 

But the truth was that he had been choosing his brother over the world for awhile now, and it was time to stop pretending. He already knew this mission of his was going to get him killed—really, what else did he have to lose? 

Chris dropped to his knees in front of the bars, and anxiously flexed his hand. If the bracelet activated while up against the warded shield, it would send feedback through all the protections Wyatt had laid. Maybe even enough to bring them down. Wyatt's wards were strong, but this bracelet was Wyatt's magic too, and Chris knew his brother could easily enough pull his own wards down.

Taking one deep steadying breath, Chris thrust his arm though the bars and to the shield. He bit his lip as he made contact, and the energy began to burn his fingers. He ignored the pain and forced his hand up against the energy, pressing his forehead against the bars as he fought with himself not to move away. 

"I have never told a lie," he said. The bracelet came to life, sending waves of pain back across his arm. He did cry out this time, but forced himself to stay where he was. He had seen a flicker in the shield, just a series of small holes that appeared and then reformed, but it was a start. 

"I am not a Halliwell." The bracelet's energy sparked again, snapping through the cell's shield like a lightning strike, but it came back together again to close around his wrist like a vice. Chris fought off a scream as he pulled his burned hand back out, sucking in a deep, painful breath. The skin around his hand and wrist was bright pink and beginning to blister. 

But it was working, and he never did things half-way. 

He pushed his hand back towards the shield, and this time it had enough give that he could force his hand inside of it, the energy sparking along the surface of the thin circlet around his wrist. It felt like sticking his hand into a flame, but he just gripped the bars tighter with his other hand and kept pushing forward. He waited until the energy field was completely surrounding the bracelet, and then he said, clearly as he could: "I am an only child." 

The wards blew out like a sonic boom. Chris flew backwards, slamming into the side of the bed hard enough he felt something crack. He wrapped his uninjured hand around the bedspread, trying to keep himself from tipping over, and glanced back towards the door. The cell door was hanging open, completely bent out of shape, and the wards were down. 

Chris could feel his power coming back to him without the wards holding it back, and he sucked in a grateful breath. His victory only lasted until the exhale, and then he saw the shimmering black smoke appearing right in front of him. 

Wyatt. Chris orbed away on automatic, hoping against hope that while Wyatt was mid-shimmer, he wouldn't be able to trace where he'd gone. If his brother managed to follow his orb trail, his escape would be over before it could start. 

Orbing while injured was the Whitelighter equivalent of driving drunk, and he reappeared three feet in the air and horizontal, before slamming unceremoniously down on the ground. He felt something give beneath his skin, and he was pretty sure he'd cracked at least one of his ribs when the wards had thrown him. 

_Christopher…_

Chris tried to throw up his blocks, to put his brother on mute, but he'd never been very successful at keeping Wyatt out and even less so whenever he was hurt. 

_You're hurt_ , his brother's voice said, echoing loudly in his pounding head. _Just tell me where you are, and I'll help._

His brother's voice was feared by almost the whole world, and for a moment Chris almost wished it could scare him too. Part of him wished he'd get a rush of adrenaline and feel the need to flee. Instead the danger here was not so much in getting caught, but in allowing himself to give in. 

It wasn't that he cared about the comforts. He hated this place, and all its Caesar's Palace inspired trappings—but his family hated him. They hated him, and blamed him every bit as much as they blamed Wyatt. Without Wyatt, he would be truly alone. 

He had the Resistance, but they were not friends. They were colleagues, at best. Even Bianca wasn't…well, she just wasn't. Not yet.

_TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!_

Chris dragged himself up to his feet. There was a sting in the air as the lights began to flash and a low buzz started to thrum out from the walls—it was a magical alarm system, a call to arms for Wyatt's demons. Chris was pretty sure they would be under orders not to hurt him even now, but they would drag him straight to Wyatt. 

He had to get out of the open and to his hide-out, or the decision about whether or not to keep running was going to be taken out of his hands. 

He grabbed at his side and stumbled down the hall, stopping about mid-way through. He leaned up against the wall, pressing his hands against the surface, and for a moment closed his eyes. "For those this place betrays, stay hidden by both sense and sight," he recited, "open the door to none but one whose light is white." 

The wall abruptly disappeared and Chris fell ungracefully through it, crashing hard onto the floor as the wall closed up tightly behind him once more. He pushed himself up on his knees, and took a deep breath. The spell he had written was meant to keep out all but whitelighters, which was always a dangerous gamble where Wyatt was concerned. His orbs may have darkened to a murky black, but Chris was pretty certain he couldn't change what was in his blood. 

Chris had used the spell anyway, because Wyatt had the upper hand with pretty much every form of magic. The advantage here was that Wyatt had ignored his Whitelighter heritage for so long, it might never occur to him to use it. 

He couldn't hear Wyatt any longer, so the wards were working, but he could still feel him, pressing up against the barrier between them. Searching him out. Screaming his name.

Wyatt might find him eventually, but it wouldn't be easy, even for him. Chris had years to perfect this particular little hide-out, to make sure that Wyatt could never find it and that if ever he did, it wouldn't be traced back to him. 

It was the perfect panic room: twelve by twelve and full of magical objects and powerful potions. What it wasn't was a great place to live: he had no water, no food, and no way to leave without getting caught. He might be able to write a spell to get him some supplies, but any further use of magic was sure to draw Wyatt's eye, no matter how strong his wards were. 

"Time to stop thinking about what you don't have," Chris muttered to himself, as he stood and headed towards the shelves. "Focus on what's here." 

The words weren't his, but belonged to a little voice in the back of his mind: Leo, for once. Leo had been quite the optimist, before his fall from grace. If Chris could say one thing about Leo, it was that he'd always known the right thing to say. 

Chris held his side with one arm while he sorted through the potion bottles with the other. Tipping them towards the light to read the labels. He stopped when he found a healing potion, and absentmindedly drank it down, flexing his hand as the blisters began to disappear. He felt the bones in his chest knitting back together just enough that he could breathe again without having it hurt. 

Healing potions weren't as good as a Whitelighter, and he could still feel some pain. It was more of an accelerant than anything: about six weeks worth of healing in the time it took to swallow the potion down. Daniel was not always available, and Chris had needed a way to hide his injuries from his brother. 

He set the empty bottle back on the shelf, pausing as he noticed the photograph wedged into the corner. It was a picture of his parents and Wyatt. He'd kept it because even though it was taken before he was born, it was still the only photograph he had of the rest of his family all together. There were plenty of photos of him and Wyatt, of him and his mother, of the three of them and of their aunts—he only had to take the museum tour to see them. 

But Leo had disappeared from their photographs before Chris could even speak. He didn't know why it was important to have at least one photo of him, but Chris had managed to salvage it from one of their photo albums before Wyatt had everything in the manor not going on display boxed away. 

He stared at the innocent child in his parent's arms and frowned. "What happened to you?" 

Wyatt had told Chris that he missed who he used to be, but he didn't seem to notice the parallel there. He didn't quite seem to get that he'd been the one to change first. 

Chris pulled his eyes away from the photo, and wished desperately wished there was someone that he could call. Bianca or Daniel, or even one of his aunts. _His mo_ — He just needed to talk to someone, he needed to see if what he was doing was right, because he didn't trust himself to know anymore. 

_I can't do this alone_. Chris wrapped his hands around the edges of the shelf, dropping his head down against the surface to rest. He didn't use a lot of force, but the movement still knocked one of the potions loose. It tumbled down from the shelf and landed flat on the floor, perfectly upright, and unbroken. 

He stepped back to glance down at it, and then he felt his blood run cold. There was a faded label scribbled in his own hand attached to the cork by a string: _Disunity Potion._

He'd almost forgotten about it, but he did not believe having it fall at his feet now was a coincidence. Magic, sometimes, had a mind of its own. 

He had been so lost, his first few months with Wyatt. He had spent most of his days in the massive library Wyatt had begun collecting, searching all the pages he found there for a way to save his brother, and then sometimes, selfishly, for a way to save himself. 

This particular potion was dark magic—the darkest Chris had ever touched. He still remembered becoming ill when he made it. He had been sick for days, which was how he knew he'd done it right. 

He had been so desperate at the time for a way to escape Wyatt. He had been regretting his decision to leave his family behind, and he had wanted to find them so badly, but had known he couldn't risk leading Wyatt to them. 

And that was when he'd found the recipe for the Disunity Potion. It was originally created by a demon to be used against the Charmed Ones. It was meant to break their bonds and tear apart the power of three. 

Essentially, it was meant to cause the dissolution of the sibling bond. 

Chris had made it, had followed each step to the letter, but he had never been able to bring himself to take that final step and take it. 

He told himself that it was because there was no telling what it might do to them. They were not Charmed in the traditional Halliwell sense: they broke all of the old rules, and even if Paige used to jokingly call them the Charmed Two, it didn't make it true. 

They did not share in the power of three, but they did have a bond that was something other than your typical family tie. There was the shared origin of their powers, their whitelighter connection, and the simple fact that they were brothers—which, when magic was involved, was no small thing. 

But Chris had always been on unequal ground when it came to their bond. Wyatt could ignore him whenever he wanted, but Chris couldn't do the same if Wyatt didn't want him to. Wyatt was able to sense Chris no matter how hard he tried to block him, could find him from probably anywhere in the world. Only wards as strong as those in Wyatt's dungeon and those that Chris had built here could hope to keep him out, and he couldn't stay behind them for the rest of his life. 

He had never found a way to fight it, except for this. Even Wyatt couldn't use their bond to find him if it was no longer there. 

He knelt down beside the small bottle, and shakily reached out to pick it up. If he did this, he knew there was no going back. This might even be the one thing Wyatt wouldn't be able to forgive. 

He glanced back up at the picture of his brother, looking so young and innocent, and then he thought of his brother standing over him, his hand clenched to a fist. 

"I'm sorry, Wyatt," he whispered. "I can't be what you want." 

He drank the potion down. 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt Halliwell was not used to things not going his way. An intruder in his palace was almost unheard of, so when one of his most trusted guards started shouting in his head that Perry had managed to get inside of the walls, he had almost not believed it. But then, if Chris was to be believed, Perry had been sneaking in to steal his prisoners for over a year. 

The question was how: he must have ways getting his hands on a key. Wyatt had done a check with all of his demons that possessed one: Bianca's was unaccounted for, certainly, but hers had been enchanted to trap her if she dared return again. 

Which left Andrew, who was not responding to any of his summons. 

Andrew was not brave enough to betray him, but the series of events were not difficult to reverse engineer. Andrew had been after Bianca, and she was, apparently, joined up with the Resistance. She had obviously gotten the better of Andrew and then enlisted the help of the Resistance to come back for Chris. 

No sooner had the thought occurred to him when his bond with his brother had flared to life, and the first thing that came through it was the pain. He'd shimmered straight to his cell, but only caught the barest trace of disappearing orbs by the time he had reformed. 

He'd stood there for a moment, frozen with disbelief. He didn't understand how Chris could have gotten past his wards, but his brother's pain was still pressing down on him, so he tried to seek him out at once. He shouted and cajoled and threatened, and still Chris would not answer. 

Their bond had continued to be ignored until it became muffled almost completely, which did not make sense, because Chris had never been able to block him. And Wyatt had magically strengthened his bond with his brother in secret when he first took the world, to ensure that Chris never could.

But somehow he had. 

Now he was pacing the marble floor of his throne room, wondering how everything had fallen so far out of his control. No further reports of the intruder Perry had come in, and his brother had not been seen. 

"Tell me exactly what happened," he demanded, as one of his demon guards cowered before him. 

"The witch Perry appeared on the upper levels," he said uneasily. "He killed sixteen guards before he managed to disappear again." 

Wyatt fought the urge to run a hand through his hair. He couldn't appear unnerved in front of his guard. Sixteen demons killed in minutes, and now Perry was on the loose. The intolerable little witch was beginning to be a nuisance, and Wyatt didn't have the time to deal with this. Not with Chris missing. 

"Are they certain it was him?" Wyatt demanded. 

"Perry has never been caught, so we cannot be certain. But he matched what little description of him we have," the demon reported fearfully. "It was a young man with brown hair in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, only…" 

"Only what?" Wyatt roared, the dark crystal chandeliers along the ceiling shaking ominously with his impatience. 

"They say he shimmered, my lord," the demon answered quickly. "And it was thought that Perry was a good witch." 

Wyatt frowned as he considered that. He did not bother to reprimand his demon for using the term 'good.' He knew well enough what he meant by it, and that Perry was considered a 'good witch' was actually one of the only things they had thought to know for certain. But the power to shimmer came with a cost, and it required some amount of darkness in the soul. Almost any witch could learn to do it, but it would not have been an accepted power among those that considered themselves _good_. 

"Now that is interesting," Wyatt said, though he supposed if it really was Perry, then this only went to prove how useless terms like good and evil really were. 

"We can't trace him," the demon continued. "We think he went into the dungeons, and the wards there are masking him." 

"He is here for my brother," Wyatt realized. 

"But your brother is not in the dungeons," the demon said helpfully. 

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at him. "Yes, you imbecile, I realize that," he said. "And you should be careful of reminding me of your incompetence in finding out where he actually _is_." 

"But sire, we have narrowed it down. We believe Lord Christopher has hidden himself behind strong wards of his own making," the demon explained. "We are searching every level. I assure you, he will be found." 

Wyatt wondered about that. He had a feeling he would need to search for Chris himself, because his brother was too talented to have created wards even his best demons would be able to detect. But his brother could never hide from him. 

"It is of no matter," Wyatt decided. "I will deal with Chris myself. I want you to—" 

Wyatt's words cut off as he felt a cold rushing over him, his skin prickling like he'd been dunked in ice water. He caught himself halfway to a scream, biting his tongue to keep it in. There were phantom fingers reaching inside of his chest, gripping at something to tug it out. He fell forward onto his knees, reaching up to clutch at his throat as he tried to take in air. 

"My lord?" the demon asked anxiously, obviously uneasy to see the near invulnerable Wyatt Halliwell on his knees. 

Wyatt threw out a hand and sent the demon flying back, before clenching his fist to crush the thing's useless heart. The demon dissolved to dust, and now that there was no witness to his weakness, Wyatt allowed himself to completely collapse.

His forehead pressed against the floor and he tried to remember how to breathe. He felt like he'd been ripped open and left incomplete. He did an inventory of his powers, and it only took him a moment to realize what was gone. 

That part of him that could feel and reach out to his brother was missing, a strange gaping hole left in its place, like something had torn out a piece of his heart. 

He pushed himself up, desperately clutching at his chest as though he could force what he'd lost back inside. He wondered for a moment if this was what it felt like to drown.

_Chris…what have you done?_

No answer came. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

The ceiling slowly swam into focus above him as Chris clawed at the ground, trying to hold himself steady. He was splayed out along the floor, and it felt like he'd had his chest pried apart, but when he finally found the energy to push himself up and look down, he wasn't covered in blood the way he expected. 

There was nothing there at all. The potion may have ripped him open, but it had left him unmarked. 

Paige always used to tell him that magic always came with a price, and the darker it was the higher the cost. And while the potion may have done what it was meant to, Chris felt off-kilter. He felt different, as though instead of just losing Wyatt, he'd also lost a piece of himself. He reached up to rub at his chest, swallowing hard and ignoring the twinge of pain in his throat. It was raw, and he suspected he'd been screaming. 

Good thing he'd warded this place to be soundproof, as well. 

He considered taking a restorative potion, but figured that might be pushing his luck. His mother had instilled in him the need to take magic in moderation, and he was worried enough about what the magic he'd already used might cost him without adding more to his tab. Wyatt was convinced consequences didn't apply to them: that the destruction of the Elders had ended what he called their petty acts of retribution. 

Chris could understand why he thought that. Magic for personal gain was really the only kind of magic that Wyatt ever did, and nothing could touch him. 

But Chris didn't have the benefit of being the all powerful Twice-Blessed, and maybe he was holding onto old ideals—maybe nothing would happen at all, if he went a little too far—but he wasn't willing to risk it. He would do what he had to do, and nothing else. 

He knew that what was coming was going to require plenty of magic as it was. 

He might have broken the bond with Wyatt, and it was true that his brother shouldn't be able to sense him any more than if he were just some stranger with magic, but that didn't make him safe. He was in danger the longer he stayed locked up in here, and he'd be in more danger if he left. The moment he bypassed the safety of the wards, Wyatt would be able to drag him back any time he liked with a strong summoning spell. 

There were other safe houses he could go to that he had warded himself and might protect him. It was his only chance, even if it would just be another short-term solution, because he wouldn't be able to think clearly as long as he was here. He needed at least the illusion of freedom, and there was an empty safe house in Colorado that would be perfect—he would be safe while he came up with a long-term plan, and if his plans failed, he didn't have to worry about leading Wyatt to any of the other Resistance members. 

Now all he needed was a key to get out. 

Chris leaned back against the wall as he forced himself to stand, and the room spun for a moment before it settled down. He was running on very little sleep and he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, but he couldn't stop now. Things weren't going to improve unless he managed to get out of here, so there was no point in waiting around.

In any case, Chris figured he might be able to turn his current weakness to his advantage. Wyatt's demons were always under strict orders not to hurt him, so in most cases he did not have to worry about fighting for his life. He just had to pick a target, and let them think they had the upper hand. 

The lead guard on this level was Daxel. Chris had learned quite a lot about Daxel while he was deciding where to put his secret room, and he'd chosen this one because Daxel wasn't much for actually doing his job. Wyatt kept Daxel around because he was useful, and he could get things no one else could, but the title of lead guard was mostly honorary. Until Chris had arrived and created a room, there was nothing significant on this entire floor. 

Still, Daxel's responsibilities required that he be able to come and go as he pleased, and he was one of the first that Wyatt had entrusted with a key. 

Chris grabbed a couple strong vanquishing potions from the shelf and stuck them in his pockets. He'd like to just use it on Daxel right away and rip the necklace off him before he went up in flames, but Chris needed answers, too. He hadn't forgotten the strange way that Wyatt had been called away before his escape, and if his family or Bianca had been found, he needed to know about it. 

He stepped up to the hidden door and whispered the spell, not wanting to risk orbing in case his brother could still detect the Whitelighter magic. He didn't want to test the limits of their newly absent bond his first time out.

He took a few uneasy breaths as he started down the hall, keeping an eye out for any stray demons. The alarm was still blaring, and though it had no actual audio, Chris could hear it thrumming beneath his skin. It gave him a bit of an adrenaline push, meant to galvanize the guards into action. He had faith Daxel would be ignoring it, riding out the storm safe in his office. 

He crept towards the back edge of the level, leaning himself up against the wall beside Daxel's office door. He glanced both directions but he hadn't seen anyone else yet. Either the guards on this level had been called away to guard more important areas, or Daxel hadn't bothered to issue any instructions to them and they were all watching _I Dream of Jeannie_ reruns in their breakroom. 

He reached out and knocked loudly on the door with the back of his hand, keeping himself pressed up against the wall beside it. 

Daxel pulled the door open in irritation a moment later, and Chris swung around, throwing out his hand to knock the demon all the way to the back wall. Daxel struggled to get back on his feet, looking up with wide eyes as Chris walked purposefully towards him. 

"Don't get up on my account," Chris said. "I think we should have a little chat." 

A dangerous gleam entered Daxel's eyes. He might not like the everyday stuff, but a coup like handing Christopher Halliwell back to his brother on a silver platter was the sort of thing that let him get away with slacking on everything else. 

It was exactly the kind of lure Chris needed to get him to talk. 

"You're causing quite the stir today," Daxel told him. "I would have thought you'd be gone by now—but, oh, that's right, big brother grounded you." 

Chris kneeled down in front of the demon, watching his eyes carefully. Prue always told him she could never sense emotions from demons, but Chris always wondered if maybe they had them, they were just so foreign that they couldn't be recognized. 

If living all these years with demons had taught him anything, it was that they weren't quite as different as they'd been taught. They were like a distorted reflection of humanity, and they imitated it skillfully. Sociopaths, with super powers. 

Daxel's wants were simple, really. He wanted to be in Wyatt's good graces so he could continue to skate by and over the others. So Chris gave him the opening he needed to take it. He twitched the fingers of one hand to send something crashing off the shelf behind him, and turned his head to look. 

Daxel was on him in a second, snagging his wrists and pushing him violently up against the wall. Chris was pushed backwards into a sitting position, and Daxel straddled his legs, looking gleeful. Chris tried to look suitably terrified as he let his eyes scan across the cord around Daxel's neck. He reminded himself to watch his words because of the bracelet, but he wasn't too worried. If he could get around Wyatt while wearing it, Daxel should be child's play. 

"Wait—" he pleaded, as he tried to twist his wrists free. "You can't hurt me. Wyatt won't—" 

"Can't kill you maybe, but he wants you back, and I don't think he'll mind so much if it takes a few bruises to do it, this time," Daxel sneered. 

"He will, you know he will," Chris said, injecting a bit more confidence into his tone. "Wyatt always said he would protect his family." 

Daxel laughed cruelly. "He's got contracts out on the rest of you Halliwells, only a matter of time before he gets tired of you, too," he denied. 

Chris didn't let his relief show: if the family had contracts out on them, they hadn't been caught. 

"The Resistance will protect them," Chris denied. "You'll never find them." 

"The Resistance?" he asked. "Their leader just wandered right into the Lion's Den, pretty soon they'll be gone soon too. Rumor has it they ain't nothin' much without him." 

Chris' eyes widened and he lost his footing in the ruse, swallowing hard as his eyes skittered towards the door and he reconsidered his options. "The leader? What do you know about him?" 

"Just that he's here, probably for you," Daxel said, before squinting his eyes. "Thought you were probably working with him, but maybe not, if you're trying to get out on your own. What did you think? You'd come in here and take my key and get away clean?" 

Chris steeled his expression, working to look like he'd been caught but was trying hard not to show it. Sometimes he got confused by his own layers of deception. 

"That's it, isn't it? You want my key?" Dax laughed. "That's what you're after? Really?" 

"Yes," Chris said, trying to push back further into the wall, though Daxel still tightly gripped his wrists. "I have to get out of here, and you know you'll all be better off without me here, if you just—" 

"Do you think Lord Wyatt is stupid, _Christopher_?" he sneered. "You should know he never takes chances when it's you. I'm sure he's already—" 

The tip of an athame bursts out right above Daxel's collarbone, straight through the neck, instantly cutting off the words. Daxel gurgled for a moment as his shocked eyes tried to look down, and then flames were rising up from the ground to consume him. 

"No," Chris protested, trying to reach out and snag the necklace before the flames took it too. He didn't reach it in time: in just a fraction of a second, both Daxel and the necklace were gone. 

He glanced up then as a man approached from the doorway. He had a dark blue hoodie pulled down low over his eyes, with jeans and sneakers. He didn't look like a demon, or one of Wyatt's spies.

"Who the hell are you?" Chris asked. 

The figure gave a very familiar little grin. "You can just call me Perry." 

"Or not," Chris said, narrowing his eyes. "I'll ask again: who are you?" 

"You could be grateful, you know," he said. "You looked to be in some trouble." 

"Appearances can be deceiving, I was in the middle of an interrogation," Chris said in irritation. "He was just about to tell me what my brother has planned for me, and if you hadn't—" 

"Well, in that case, I apologize for interrupting," he said smoothly, interrupting him yet again. 

Chris paused in his tirade, turning to the figure with calculating eyes. Now that they were closer, he could see that the person was obviously glamoured. He couldn't see past it, but he could see it. It was one talent he had actually been taught by Leo, instead of the sisters. 

Even distorted as they were by the glamour, he recognized the eyes, and the way they'd wielded that athame. It helped that there was a pretty short list of people that might come to rescue him. 

"Bianca?" he hissed, pushing forward to sit up straight as he examined the man. 

"Wondered if you'd know it was me," Bianca said, flashing him her signature grin—it looked strange and foreign on her newly masculine face. 

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pushing up the sleeve to check for the Phoenix mark. The mark was a kind of magic itself, not easily hidden, and sure enough it was there. He looked up to glare at her. "Have you completely lost your mind?" 

"What?" she asked. "I have to say, this isn't the reunion that I expected. You make for an awful damsel in distress. Aren't you happy to see me?" 

"I haven't seen you," he said petulantly. He traced the edges of her glamour with his eyes. She looked a bit like him, really, but older, and a couple inches taller, with a scar beneath the right eye and dark brown eyes that were more hers than his. She also had a short, stubbly beard that hid their similarities well enough. 

"Good work, right?" she asked. "Grace came up with it. Thought she'd make it look just enough like you we might get mistaken for each other at a distance. I'm your new decoy." 

"This is a bad idea," Chris protested at once. 

"I could hardly come as myself," Bianca said reasonably. "Wyatt has his whole army on the lookout for me." 

"You know who else they're looking for?" Chris demanded. " _Perry_. You have to get out of this glamour." 

"Because then I'll be safe?" Bianca asked incredulously. "You're the one that said this is why you created Perry in the first place. A distraction for Wyatt so he doesn't realize who it is that's really behind it. So let me be your decoy. I've already got this place falling all over themselves to find me, which means that's less demons looking for you." 

"How did you even manage to get back in here?" he asked. 

"I have a key," she told him, pulling it out from under her shirt. 

"Is that the one he gave you?" he asked urgently. "Bianca, he can trace them—" 

"Relax, I destroyed the one he gave me," she told him quickly. "This one is a little more recently acquired." 

Chris reached out and lifted the pendant in his hand, frowning when he noticed that it was glowing dully. "It's not supposed to glow. We need to toss it," he said. 

"We can't get out without it," Bianca protested.

"I don't know that we can get out with it, and he might be able to track you," Chris insisted. "He hasn't found you yet because he's too busy looking for me to come after you himself, but once he gets tired of everyone he sends after you turning up dead—" 

"I can hold my own, even against Wyatt," she promised. "Can he really shut this key off or keep it from letting us out?"

"Pretty sure that's what Daxel was about to tell me," Chris told her wryly. "Wyatt never told me much about the keys. He didn't want to give me any ideas about trying to replicate one. I'm not sure what he might be able to do with them once they're made, but he doesn't leave much to chance. If you've already used this one once, I don't think it's safe to try again." 

"So let's find another demon to interrogate," Bianca decided. She held out a hand to pull Chris up. "Only this time, we do it my way." 

She pulled the necklace off and tossed it onto Daxel's desk, before glancing back at Chris. "We'll start with Martin." 

"Martin?" he asked incredulously. Martin was a young demon by demon accounting—only 156—and he acted like an extra from one of those old Kevin Smith films. "Martin's an idiot." 

"I expect more from you, Chris," Bianca said, as she started towards the door. "Martin may act like an idiot, but there's never anything going on here he doesn't know about it." She paused for a moment. "Well, except maybe for the things you've been getting up to. Which is why I thought you were insightful enough to see past his façade." 

"Well, in my defense, I'm generally avoiding demons, not psychoanalyzing them," Chris said. "But seriously? Martin? Really?" 

"He acts stupid because it makes people less careful what they say around him," she explained. "He didn't become one of Wyatt's elite by being incompetent—he's your brother's best spy. He'll know what Wyatt's up to, if anyone does." 

She held out a hand. "Come on. I know how to find him." 

"How about I meet you there," Chris said warily. 

Bianca rolled her eyes, and snagged his hand. "I know you don't like to shimmer, but I'm guessing Wyatt would be able to find you if you orbed." 

"Maybe," Chris said, still not sure how in tune Wyatt's Whitelighter senses would be, without their bond to tie them together. "Fine. Just do it." 

Chris came out of the shimmer off balance and nauseous, but managed to stay on his feet. "I will never get used to that," he complained. 

"Sure you don't want me to teach you?" she asked, tossing him a grin. "You might get used to it if you could do it yourself. 

He glared at her, still disturbed by the strange reality of dealing with Bianca while she looked like someone else. It was a little hard to flirt with someone that, for the moment at least, looked a bit like his evil twin. "No," he answered flatly. "Where's Martin?" 

"He'll be here soon," Bianca told him, sounding unconcerned. "We tripped his silent alarms the moment we shimmered into his quarters. Shouldn't be too long before he comes to investigate." 

"If you let me handle this, I can get him to talk," Chris told her.

"Not as quickly as I can. Trust me, I have a plan," Bianca said, turning and pulling out another athame from somewhere. She tossed it just as a figure started to shimmer in, and it slammed into the demon's shoulder and pinned him to the wall almost before he could fully form. Bianca walked over to him. "Hello, Martin." 

"Ah, the lovely Bianca," Martin said snidely, as he reached up to grip the athame holding him to the wall. "A little less lovely than usual at the moment, of course." 

"You can see through the glamour?" she demanded. If Martin could, they didn't stand a chance of fooling Wyatt.

Martin started to pull out the athame but stopped at a warning look from Bianca. "No, I just put up a special alarm just for you in case you ever showed up here," he said. He tilted his head toward Chris. "And since he's obviously Christopher Halliwell—can't really imitate all that _goodness_ , can you—well, that must make you Bianca." 

"You're right," Chris said, coming to stand behind her. "He's not a total idiot." 

"Ah, if only I could return the compliment," Martin said, tossing a wink at Chris. 

Bianca stepped up to him, reaching out gently, to delicately tap her fingers across his chest. "Have you ever fought a Phoenix, Martin?" she asked. 

"Your threats don't mean much to me, love," Martin said. "Nothing you could do that Wyatt can't do worse." 

"No, you're right," she agreed. "I thought maybe we could do this the easy way." She stepped back and spun, taking Chris out at the knees to drive him to the ground in front of her. She wrapped a hand in his hair to drag his head back and then looked back towards Martin. "But if it's Wyatt you're scared of—what do you think he'd do to you, if you let his little brother get hurt?" 

"You wouldn't," Martin said quickly. "You're working together, you—" 

"You think I'm working with him?" Bianca laughed. "Please. He's a valuable bargaining chip, that's all." 

Chris reached up, trying to grip at Bianca's arm to loosen her grip, but he didn't fight the hold. He knew what she was doing, and he'd play along—even if he would have appreciated some warning. 

"Chris is good, remember? You said it yourself," she reminded him. "And he may disagree with his brother, but he doesn't want him dead, do you, Christopher?" 

"No," Chris snapped. 

"Well, I do," Bianca informed Martin. "And I'll do what I have to. Even if that means leaving his brother in a bloody heap at your feet for him to come find. Won't matter if he believes you did it or not, he'll blame you for letting it happen at all."

When Martin didn't answer immediately, she wrapped her hand a little tighter in Chris's hair, pulling his head further back. Chris let out a pained gasp as he fought to keep his balance in her hold. 

"Wait—" Martin shouted. "What do you even want from me?" 

"I want to know what Wyatt's doing to get Chris back," Bianca said. "We need to find a way out." 

Martin's eyes flickered to Chris for a moment, before returning to her. "He's desperate to get him back. Oh, he hides it well, but not from me. He's as desperate as he's ever been." Martin shot her a grim smile. "Don't know why he's so bothered. Not like either of you are going anywhere." 

"Explain that," Bianca ordered. 

"He deactivated all the keys," Martin said, reaching up with his good arm to pull his own glowing key out from under his shirt. "That's the warning light. Any of us try to use 'em right now, it'll burn us up from the inside out." He glanced at Chris. "'Cept for you, course." 

"What happens if I use it?" Chris asked. 

"What do you think?" he asked, tossing them a smug grin. "It'll take you straight to _him_. Sorry, kiddos, but we're on full lockdown. Ain't nowhere for you to run." 

"There has to be a way out," Bianca said. 

"Have you tried the front doors?" Martin asked helpfully. 

"Martin," she warned. "Tell us." 

"Sorry, threaten me with the boy all you want, I can't tell you what I don't know," Martin said. "Our Lord and Master doesn't exactly do things by half, he's sealed up every exit this place has. You want out, you're going to have to take him out first." 

Bianca released Chris abruptly, and he stood back up beside her, dusting himself off. "You could have warned me," he said to her. 

"You played your part well enough," Bianca said dismissively, keeping her eyes on Martin. "I needed you to be surprised for Martin to believe it." 

Martin glared back at her. "You always were soft on the kid. Knew you were bluffing." 

"Didn't seem like it," Bianca said. 

"Yeah, well, I saw what happened to the last guy that bruised up baby brother," he said. "Thought it best I didn't take any chances." 

"Good advice," Chris said, and with a wave of his hand he orbed Martin to the surface. The orbs swirled around him for a moment, Martin's eyes widening in terror, and then his necklace emitted a bright flash and he went up in flames. 

"What did you do?" Bianca demanded. 

"I had to see if he was telling the truth about the keys stopping anyone from getting out," Chris said, looking at the pile of ash that had been Martin. "I guess he was." 

"Yes, but you just used your Whitelighter power," Bianca reminded him. 

"Well, we couldn't exactly have you try it out, you can't shimmer anyone without going yourself," he pointed out reasonably. "Besides, it doesn't seem like—" 

Chris trailed off as the walls began to vibrate. It was a low buzzing hum, not so unlike the alarm that has been going off since he escaped, but there was more urgency to this one. Like it belonged to something that was getting closer. 

He spun and pushed his way out of Martin's room, Bianca right on his heels. They stumbled to a stop the moment they reached the hall, watching in disbelief as something headed towards them from the other side. 

It was a blue wall of light, filling the hallway corner to corner, crackling ominously as it approached. 

"What is that thing?" Bianca asked, as she started to back up from its approach. 

"We need to run," Chris said in answer. "Run!" 

He turned and started running the opposite direction, Bianca right behind him. "Any ideas?" she demanded as they ran. 

"I don't know. A spell, a scan. I broke our bond, and it seems it didn't take him long to find another way to look for me," he told her. They rounded the next corner and then pulled to an abrupt stop. There was another blue wall rushing towards them from the other end. 

"We're trapped," Bianca said, turning to look at Chris in worry. "Chris, you have to—" 

"We're not trapped yet," he insisted, as he reached out and latched onto her hand. "You need to shimmer us, I can't risk orbing again." 

"But to where?" she asked. "You know Wyatt. These scans are going to be everywhere. Martin was right, there's nowhere—" 

He tugged her back to face him by the grip on her hand. "I need you to trust me," he said clearly. "I'll show you where to go." 

Bianca glanced back at the walls closing in on them, and nodded sharply. She closed her eyes and mingled her power with Chris's, starting the shimmer and letting him guide her to their destination. 

They appeared in another hallway, indistinguishable from the one they had just left, with two more blue walls approaching them quickly from both sides. 

"Great. I don't think our situation has improved any. Chris?" she snapped, glancing around to see him pressed back against the wall. "Chris?" 

Chris whispered out a spell, before pushing through the wall and tugging Bianca along behind him by the hand. They stumbled out the other side, the wall behind them going solid again even as it started to shake. There was a violent shuddering to the walls, and they lost their footing and crashed against the back wall. Chris caught Bianca as she stumbled and she fell back into him. 

They stayed still then, holding their breath until the shudders finally stopped. Chris tried to breathe again, but was having trouble with Bianca pressed back against his chest. She wasn't as light as she usually was.

"The glamour is pretty realistic, huh?" he asked. "You want to maybe get off me so I can breathe?" 

"Sorry, still getting used to this body," she explained, as she pulled away. "Don't know how you walk around like this, all gangly. I feel like a giraffe." 

Chris snorted, before heading over to check that his secret doorway had remained intact. He couldn't see any breaks in the seams. 

"What the hell was that?" she asked. "Felt like an earthquake." 

"His scan was trying to force its way through my wards," Chris explained, running his hands through his hair as he realized just how close their escape had been. "It's holding for now, but we might not have as long as I thought." 

"You think?" she asked in frustration, before taking a good look around. "What is this place? Where are we?" 

"I needed a place away from Wyatt's prying eyes," Chris said. "And I mean something a little stronger than your little spell to make objects invisible." 

"How could you have made this without him finding out about it?" she asked, her voice tinged partly with reluctant awe, and partly with irritation. Everyone knew exactly how powerful Wyatt Halliwell was—but Chris counted on being underestimated. 

"Even the Great Wyatt Halliwell has to sleep," Chris said cryptically, before glancing back around at her. She glared back at him. "You're upset with me."

"I thought I knew everything about you," she said, her eyes pulling away from his. "I thought you trusted me." 

"Well, I didn't," Chris answered honestly. "Should I have?" 

"No," she admitted. "If you'd told me what you were up to even a week ago, I would have dragged your ass straight to Wyatt." 

"What changed?" Chris asked quietly. "Why are you helping me?" 

"Somewhere between watching a kid get tortured, and watching my mother immolate herself, I guess I figured I'd been backing the wrong Halliwell," she told him. 

"You might still be backing the wrong Halliwell. It's not too late, you know, you might still be able to disappear," he told her. "If you stay here, I'm going to get you killed." 

"Maybe," she agreed. "And maybe not. Nothing's certain, Chris." 

"Some things are certain," he disagreed. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt walked purposely down the hall, his scans harmlessly rushing past him at intervals. He had enchanted the palace's computer security systems to bring their sensors to life: the rolling scans were imbued now with his magic, and they had only one target. Wyatt had always had a singular talent for combining magic and technology. 

And if Chris wanted to play this game, well, Wyatt's always played it better. Chris had never won a single game of hide and seek when they were kids. His cousins and his brother had all refused to continue playing it with him before he was ten years old, because he couldn't lose.

Reaching his target, Wyatt sent the door of Chris's room crashing open with a flick his hand. The black marble floors matched the rest of his palace, but he could see that Chris had done some redecorating since the last time he'd been inside. The bed was haphazardly made with dark blue sheets, and there were shelves stacked one against another all along the back wall, though they were empty but for a few little pieces of memorabilia and some aged photographs. 

The room looked like a strange combination between lived in and abandoned, and that was when he realized what was wrong. His brother wasn't necessarily messy, but he did collect clutter, and he was never reading less than three books at a time. This place was far too barren. 

Wyatt was hoping to find some sign of where his brother might be hiding, of what he might have used to stop their bond, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to make it easy. He ran one hand along an empty shelf, tapping his fingers absently along the wood. 

"Secrets of a brother, one to another," he said calmly, "all that's been collected unbidden, reveal now what was hidden." 

Stacks upon stacks of books appeared along the shelves, and piled up at random beside his brother's desk and bed. There were potion recipes held in place by a rusted athame that lay across them, pages with entries from the Book of Shadows re-written almost verbatim in his brother's hand, and a blueprint map of his palace tacked up on the wall. 

"This is a little more like you, little brother," he whispered. He leaned forward to run his gaze across the spines of the books, and frowned a little deeper with each title he read. They were all from the Halliwell library, which in itself was telling. Wyatt had broken with old traditions a long time ago, but it seemed his brother had more trouble letting go than he'd known. 

He turned away from the shelves to look back at the map. It was completely blank, which raised a flag right away. Wyatt lifted a hand and laid it down across it, sensing his brother's magic saturating the paper. He let his own magic slip across it to bring it to the surface, and the map came to life. 

Small dots appeared across the map: his demons, he presumed. They disappeared and appeared across the different levels, wove in and out of the hallways. There was a large blue dot right in the middle of Chris's quarters he assumed was meant to be him, but there was no representation for Chris. That would have been far too easy, and Chris would have had no reason to track himself. 

He pulled the map down from the wall, rolling it up in his hands before turning to leave the room. He'd worry about his brother's reading habits some other time. 

The map might have some use, but there was nothing here of real consequence. His brother was careful, too careful—he would not have stored anything that could have gotten him into real trouble here. 

Which meant he had somewhere else. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Bianca watched as Chris pulled open drawer after drawer, frantically tearing the room apart as he looked for something they could use to strengthen the wards. He was worried about how much time they had before Wyatt's scans would break through, but they had bigger problems than that. They couldn't stay here forever, in any case—this was all for nothing, if they didn't have a way out.

And there was only one way out of this that she could see. 

"What did you mean," she asked carefully, "when you said you'd broken your bond with Wyatt?" 

He paused, half-leaning over one open drawer, and turned to look back at her. "What?" he asked hesitantly, and she wondered if he'd even meant to tell her. She wondered if he still didn't trust her, even now. 

"You said you'd broken your bond with Wyatt," she repeated. "What exactly does that mean?" 

"It's pretty much what it sounds like," he told her, turning away again. "He can't sense me. I can't sense him. We can't call for each other." 

"You could do that?" she asked. "All this time, and you could have just—" 

"There is no _just_ about what I've done," he snapped, pushing away from the drawer in frustration. He glared over at her. "I don't think either of us will ever be the same. Even if we—" He broke off for a moment, his eyes tracing the shelves. "Wyatt could find a way to put it back, I'm sure of that. But I don't think it would be the way it was. I don't think it ever can be again." 

"You did what you had to," she insisted. "And Chris…if he can't sense you, if he can't…that means he won't see you coming." 

"Don't," Chris said. "Just, don't, I'm not going to—" 

"You need to start listening to me," Bianca interrupted. "Because this isn't your brother after you now. This is Lord Wyatt. He will never stop hunting you, and he will kill anyone that gets close to you. He will destroy every last one of the Resistance members to get to you. He will track down every person you have ever cared about and he will cut them open right in front of you. You know that. You've seen him do it to others." 

"But he won't do that to me," Chris protested. "You don't understand, alright, you don't get it—" 

"No, _you_ don't get it," she shouted, striding forward to grab his arm, forcing him to face her. "You're still thinking like his little brother. But you're not, not right now. This world needs Perry a hell of a lot more than it needs Christopher Halliwell, and you have to make a choice. You don't get to be both anymore." 

He pulled away from her hold, and stepped backwards on instinct. He didn't like that part of him agreed with her, that little voice in the back of his mind that was saying this had always just been a matter of time. 

"We have to kill him," Bianca said softly. "That's the only way we're getting out of here."

He went still, back-tracking everything he knew of Wyatt's key system, because that couldn't be true. There was always another way. He thought back to when they first moved here, back when it started, to the first key that Wyatt had ever made. It had been so long ago that he'd almost forgotten, but the first key Wyatt created actually had nothing to do with this place. 

"No, it's not," he said determinedly. "We don't have to kill Wyatt to get out of here. We just have to catch him off guard." 

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. 

"There's one key he wouldn't have deactivated," he explained. It was so simple, Chris didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. "There's just one small snag." 

"Of course there is," Bianca said snidely. "Well?" 

"Wyatt's wearing it around his neck," he told her. 

Bianca laughed. "I think I'd rather take our chances fighting our way out the front gates." 

"No, look, I think this could work," he said quickly. "Wyatt's key isn't like the others, it doesn't just let him travel through his own wards and shields, but almost anyone else's. It's a skeleton key—a sort of all-access pass. My aunts might be able to make something to keep him out, but I don't think anyone else could. Maybe me, but that's a big maybe. If we can get our hands on it, even he won't be able to stop us getting out." 

"Yeah, _if_ we can get our hands on it," Bianca protested. "But how—" 

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Chris said. "I can distract him, you can shimmer behind him and grab it." 

"You make it sound so simple, but let's take a moment to really think about everything you just said," she snapped. 

"What's the alternative?" he asked. "This is the best shot we have. Even killing Wyatt wouldn’t have been a guarantee, but if we can pull this off, we've got a sure way out." 

"Okay, so let's say we do it. Let's say I can get close enough to him to rip that necklace off his neck," Bianca said, glancing back at him. "We need the key, but what's to stop me putting an athame in his back once I've got it?" 

"Me asking you not to," he said. 

"You asking me—" she snarled, turning to glare at him. "This isn't a favor, that you're asking. This is the fate of the world, Chris. These are our lives, this is _everyone's_ life. He is going to destroy us all. We have to destroy him first." 

"If you really feel that's what you have to do, then I guess there's nothing I can say," Chris said. "But we go our separate ways now, because I won't help you do it. I can't." 

"Can you explain that to me?" she asked, her voice coming out rasping and rough. "And not that same line about him being your brother—tell me why you're doing all of this, why you're allowing him to do all this. Help me understand." 

"It's not a line, Bianca," he answered quietly. "It really _is_ because he's my brother. It's because he's not supposed to be this, he never was. He was supposed to be the greatest force of good the world has ever known, but something went wrong. And I…I truly believe he's the one that has to put it right. I don't think killing him will save us." 

"We can't win in a fight where we can't even kill him. The only way we win this is if we don't play fair," Bianca countered. "Because he's not going to extend the same courtesy to us. Maybe not even to you, not after this." 

"Maybe you're right, but I just know…I know that if I can save him, the rest will follow," Chris said. "My family taught me to right wrongs, to protect the innocent. Wyatt may no longer be innocent, but he has been wronged. So that's what I plan to do. If you don't want to help me, I understand. I hope you understand why I can't help you." 

"I think you're crazy," Bianca said, before taking a deep breath, and turning back towards him, resolute. "But I also think you're the best chance we have, so I'm behind you—if you can answer me one thing." 

He crossed his arms, bracing himself. "Okay," he said. "Ask." 

"What next?" she asked. "Say it all goes perfectly, and we get the key, we get out. What then? Because he's not just going to let you go. We could take you all the way across the world and put you behind the strongest wards we can create and it won't matter one bit." 

She stepped closer, watching him closely. "He'll summon you, blood-to-blood, first chance he gets. With his magic and your shared blood…he'll break through, he'll drag you straight back." 

He pressed his eyes shut for a moment, realizing she was right. With the scans outside chipping away at his own strongest wards, he knew even he wouldn't be able to hold Wyatt off for as long as he'd thought. He didn't know how to answer. He doubted she'd appreciate his standard plan of running as fast as he could and hoping for the best. 

"I'm sorry, I know you love him, but you need to face this," she said firmly. "This thing between you is poisonous, and you have to accept that there may not be anything else that we can do. Death is the only thing that's ever going to keep him from you."

_Death_ , Chris realized, glancing up with wide eyes. He'd discounted killing Wyatt so early on that it had never occurred to him, but there was one way to break a blood connection. Death could do it. 

"You're absolutely right," he agreed, as the answer came to him. "This can't end until one of us is dead." 

"So we agree," Bianca said slowly, wary of his change in attitude. "We take out Wyatt. Together." 

"No," Chris denied sharply, his eyes on something on a far shelf. He stepped away from her and towards it. 

"You're not making any sense," she said impatiently. "Chris. Chris?" 

"Death breaks the connection, but it doesn't have to be Wyatt's," he explained, as he moved a stack of papers from one shelf to another. "We can kill me instead." 

"That's not remotely amusing," she said warningly. 

"You're the one that said this world doesn't need Christopher Halliwell," he reminded her. "You're right, you know, it doesn't. He won't be missed by anyone, except maybe Wyatt." 

" _Maybe_?" she asked incredulously. "And what, you think we can fake something like this? With what? An illusion? An astral projection? I don't care if you broke your bond or not, he won't believe it and we'll be back at square one." 

"Maybe not. There's something my Aunt Paige used to say," Chris said. "If you want to fool someone, just give them what they expect." 

He picked up an athame from the shelf and stepped back towards her. "We can't play Wyatt, you're right about that. We try an illusion, and he'll see straight through it." 

"So what are we even talking about?" she asked. 

"We're not going to pretend, we're actually going to do it." He slammed the athame down on the table between them. Bianca examined it with a frown. It was an intricately carved athame, with an old demon script engraved all along the handle. It looked ancient, and cursed. 

He looked back up to meet her eyes. "You're going to stab me with this, right in front of him."

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"Where are you hiding, Christopher?" Wyatt whispered, as he leaned over his brother's enchanted map. Small blurry shapes flittered about the halls, as thin blue lines swept over everything—passing his demons harmlessly by as they sought something far more important. He held his hand over the map in frustration, and the blue lines doubled, appearing in each hall, crisscrossing over each other in mad pursuit. 

He thought the scan had detected whitelighter magic for a moment, but just as quickly it was gone and nothing had been caught in his net. Chris was being careful, and he obviously had somewhere warded enough he was able to hide. 

His scanners seemed particularly interested in Level 6, which was strange, as there was hardly anything down there and very little for Chris to use to hide. Still, Wyatt wouldn’t ignore what the scans were telling him. 

"Find me Daxel," he shouted, barely glancing up as one of his guards shimmered from the room to do as he was told. 

The guard reappeared a moment later, setting an athame on the desk beside the blueprint. "There's no sign of him, sire," he said. "But I found this as well as scorch marks on the wall of his office. I think it's safe to assume that Perry found him." 

Wyatt angrily picked up the athame, flipping it over in his hand. It was one of his: the generic athame he handed out to all his guards. Perry had most likely gotten quite a supply of them with all the demons he'd killed since his arrival. It told him nothing. 

Daxel was no great loss, but it was an inconvenience, and reinforced his suspicions of something happening on Level 6. If Perry had found his brother and harmed him, there would be nothing to keep him from his wrath. 

"I want you to send my best guards to 6," he said. "I want every inch of it searched." 

"My lord, Level 6 has already been searched, and the scanners—" the guard began. 

"Are you questioning my command?" Wyatt asked softly. 

The demon actually went a little pale. He bowed his head. "No, of course not, sire, we will search it again." 

"You do that," Wyatt said impatiently. He turned back to the map, but didn't miss the figure leaning up against the back wall in shadow. "Are you here for a reason?" 

The warlock in the shadows laughed, pushing off the wall. "I'm just watching the master at work," he said, as he fastidiously fixed the lapels of his black trench coat. As a warlock, he looked a bit more human than most of the demons, at least most of the time, with his strangely bright blue eyes and dark hair. 

"Kings do sometimes kill their jesters," Wyatt warned calmly. "Instead of watching me, Tinx, maybe you should keep more careful watch over your words." 

"And miss out on your incredible wit?" Tinx asked, approaching Wyatt with a falsely humble air. He held a hand to his heart. "You know very well how much I admire you." 

"You admire my power," Wyatt contradicted. "Did you have something to report, or are you just here to annoy me?" 

"Martin's dead," Tinx said, and gave a shrug. 

Wyatt froze, looking up in surprise. "What?" 

"Yeah, tried to get out, I guess," Tinx said. "Your key backfired on him. 'Cept Martin wasn't exactly as stupid as he liked people to think, so I'm guessing he didn't just up and decide to go out in flames. And I'm betting that little Hogwarts map you've got there has been picking up some whitelighter magic." 

"Chris," Wyatt realized in disappointment. Martin, unlike Daxel, was quite a loss. He'd been invaluable the last few years, and about as loyal as demons came. He shook it off quickly. Demons, however useful, were replaceable. His brother was not. 

He returned his gaze to the map. Maybe he was wrong to focus his attention on Level 6—Martin was on Level 3, and there were many warded rooms there suitable for hiding, just in need of a few added reinforcements. 

"I think it's time we take off the kid gloves, don't you?" Tinx asked, when he realized he'd lost Wyatt's attention. "The little time-outs you've been giving him don't seem to have stuck." 

"I could have sworn I've gone over with you, in incredible detail, what I would do to you if you ever harmed my brother," Wyatt said, glancing up. 

Tinx pointed to a large scar running across his temple and down past his ear. "Kid gave me this," he said. "Don't think you've got to worry about him in a fight." 

"Then what is your point?" Wyatt snapped. 

"You want to keep him in line, right?" Tinx asked. "That's why you stopped him killing me?" 

"I stopped him from killing you because Chris had to learn I wouldn't him tolerate him vanquishing every demon or warlock he came across without reason," Wyatt said. "I wanted to teach him a lesson, and having to continue to deal with you seemed punishment enough. If I thought you were any threat to him, I'd put you to death myself." 

Tinx lowered his head, though he glanced up slyly with his eyes, ruining the effect. "Of course," he agreed. "But I'm not stupid enough to go after Lord Christopher." 

"Yet you are stupid enough to waste my time while he's missing," he warned. 

"You're right, I am being cryptic," he agreed. "Let's be frank, then. Your brother is part of the Resistance. If you want him back, you need to get rid of it first. You're wasting time chasing him: destroy them, and he'll come crawling back." 

Wyatt paused over the map. His brother would not crawl, certainly, but he knew the best way to pull Chris back in line was to threaten others in his place. Threats to Chris never got him anywhere, and not just because they both knew he'd never carry them out. 

"I have every intention of destroying the Resistance," he said after a moment. "But I'm still not sure how Chris even got out of his cell, and if anyone can find a way out of here, it's him. He has to be the priority." 

"Surely he can't get past your protections, my lord," Tinx said, and Wyatt thought he dedicated something slightly mocking in his tone. His fingers twitched. 

"It is not that I doubt finding my brother, because I assure you I will," Wyatt said firmly. "But I'd rather find him sooner than later, and I can't risk him getting hurt in the meantime." 

"No one is stupid enough to touch your brother," Tinx assured him. 

"No one under my command, perhaps, of which Perry is not," Wyatt replied. 

"Which is exactly why I believe that we should focus our efforts on—" he began.

"It's not up for discussion," Wyatt said. 

"That's certainly your decision. But I think you should know, the Resistance is laughing at you," Tinx said determinedly. "Perry has killed nearly a quarter of your best guards, and you're still chasing your brother's shadow. Can't you see that's exactly the point?" 

Wyatt didn't even look back up, but Tinx was suddenly driven to his knees, reaching up to grasp at his throat. 

"What have I told you about that mouth of yours?" Wyatt asked, before he loosened his mental grip with an absent wave of his hand. 

"It thought it was why you kept me around," Tinx gasped. "I'm the only besides your brother that's ever told you the truth, and I think we both know Christopher has been lying to you for awhile now himself." 

"He has contacts with the Resistance, he's admitted that," Wyatt said. 

"You don't send Perry himself to rescue someone that just _has contacts_ ," Tinx denied. 

"Then maybe it's not a _rescue_ ," Wyatt snarled. "My brother could very well have made enemies in the Resistance. Whatever he's done, he is loyal to me. He tried to save me from an assassin just days ago." 

"That's because he's a _good witch_ ," Tinx said, using the term like an insult. "But you're not the only one he'd save. He'd save all of 'em." 

"Good is an illusion, a fairytale told for years to give purpose to otherwise meaningless mortal lives," Wyatt said. "Halliwells have something far better. We have power. Chris understands that." 

"Does he?" Tinx asked slyly. "Cause see, I don't think he does." 

"I once peeled a man's spine from his back for saying less than you're saying to me now," Wyatt said. "I suggest you stop insinuating things, and just tell me what you think you know." 

"He's with Perry," Tinx said simply. "I know it. Martin knew it. _Everyone_ here knows it. Hell, we've known for over a year, it's just no one was brave enough to tell you. You've got a blind spot where the kid's concerned, and it's getting bigger." 

"I know what I'm doing," Wyatt said. "And if my so-called elite guards are too incompetent to deal with Perry on their own, then I will deal with him myself, just as soon as my brother is found." 

Tinx's eyes blazed as he performed a mockery of a bow. "As you wish, my lord," he said, before moving to leave. 

"Oh, and Tinx?" Wyatt called, as he picked up the athame that had been found in Daxel's office. 

"Yes?" Tinx asked impatiently turning back. 

"Just one more thing," he said, and he pressed the athame up through Tinx's ribcage, and straight into his heart. 

"Wh—" Tinx asked in shock, as blood started to bubble up in his throat. He looked up at Wyatt as he lost his balance and collapsed to the floor. "Not lying, he's betrayin… you, and I'm the…only…one…tellin'…you…the truth…" 

"You misunderstand, it's not that I didn't believe you. I actually agree with most of what you said," he said, kneeling down beside Tinx with an expression that almost looked kind. Wyatt could switch between furious King and benevolent God in the blink of an eye. "But you were dead the moment you said a word against my brother." 

Tinx shuddered as he lay dying, his blood pooling slowly around him. Wyatt stood, wiping his own bloodied hands off on his pants. 

"You should just be grateful I let you keep your spine," Wyatt told him, and headed back towards the map. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"You want to run that by me again?" Bianca demanded. Chris shrugged, obviously unfazed by her anger and disbelief. Bianca would be offended, but she supposed living with Wyatt Halliwell would make anyone a bit hard to intimidate. 

"You're an expert at this," he told her. "You know how to stab someone so there won't be permanent damage." 

"Yeah, only because those are the places I usually _avoid_ ," she said snidely. 

"Bianca," he sighed. 

"Say I go along with this, and I actually _stab_ you," she said. "This athame is obviously cursed." 

"Yes," Chris agreed. "We need Wyatt to sense its magic, or this won't work. But don't worry, the curse won't really kill me." 

"Well?" she asked impatiently. "What is it then?" 

Chris paused for a moment, obviously reluctant to tell her. But there wasn't any way around it. "It's the sleeping death." 

Bianca clenched her jaw. "No." 

"This is Wyatt," he reminded her. "I can't take chances. It has to look real." 

"That's a little too real," she snapped. "It's not called the sleeping death for nothing, Chris. It'll slow your heart until it actually _stops_. Not everyone comes back from it." 

"I can come back from it," he insisted. 

"Where the hell did you even get this thing anyway?" she asked. She seriously doubted Wyatt would have wanted something this dangerous in his brother's hands, and she couldn't imagine Chris enacting any curses of his own. 

"An assassin, a year ago," Chris said casually. "I think he meant to hold me prisoner to get something from Wyatt. Wanted me just almost dead, and not actually dead. Wyatt tends to get a little touchy when people come after me, and I didn't feel like getting put under total house arrest again, so I vanquished the demon without telling anyone about it. I kept this because it was powerful magic, and it was enchanted so that it can't be taken from the hand that holds it. I thought it might come in useful some day, and it turns out I was right." 

"A year ago I was your bodyguard," Bianca said after a moment. "Where the hell was I?" 

Chris tossed her a smirk, and then tossed her the athame. She caught it easily, and it disappeared somewhere in her clothes. "You were one of the better ones, but I slipped your watch plenty of times." 

Bianca narrowed her eyes. "How?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, before he returned his attention to his shelves behind him. "Too bad we don't have more time to reminiscence about the good ol' times."

He walked back to the shelves, and pulled out a little wooden box. He opened it carefully, and lifted out a small vial of blue liquid. 

"What's that for?" Bianca asked. 

"I made a kind of all-purpose antidote, in case anyone else tried anything," he explained. "It'll counteract most curses, and it's one of my mom's old recipes, so it's one of the best." He glanced over at her. "If you can get it to me within the first five minutes, it should wake me up. Any longer than that, and the curse may have too strong of a hold to be broken that way." 

"What's the usual way of breaking it? Because the more I think about it, the less I can remember hearing about anyone actually _waking up_ from the sleeping death," she snapped. "But the assassin must have had a plan for bringing you back if he meant to use you as leverage against Wyatt." 

"If he'd kept me under the curse much longer than five minutes, it might not have been me he brought back," he said. "Demons aren't exactly picky about the trivial details, but personally I'd like to keep my soul." 

"Right. Wonderful. And this seems like a good idea to you?" she asked. 

"It seems like the only idea," he countered. "And if we're not out of there within five minutes after you stab me, we're screwed anyway." 

"Fair point," Bianca admitted. "I still don't like it." 

"I'm not exactly brimming with excitement about the idea myself," he said. "But the fact that this thing is actually, sort of, going to kill me, is the very reason it's going to work." 

"What if it doesn't just _sort of_ kill you?" she snapped. 

"Then I'll be a victim of a self-fulfilling prophecy," he said wryly, before sighing when she just glared back at him. "Look, I'm not planning to die anytime soon, but it's this, or give in. I could walk out into that hall right now and I'd be perfectly safe. If that was my main concern, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'm willing to take the risk." 

"And if it doesn't work?" she asked. "What if we can't get away clean? I need to know you're in this all the way. I already know you'd give your own life, but I need to know you'd give _his_." 

"Fine. Okay, look, if I absolutely had to, then yes, I'd kill Wyatt myself—" Chris broke off as a painful jolt raced up his arm, and he bent forward, holding it to his chest. "Oh shit," he cursed, pressing his eyes shut as he tried to ride the shockwaves out. "Forgot about that." 

"Chris?" Bianca asked anxiously, her irritation forgotten as she moved to help. She noticed the bracelet around his wrist, and eyed it with unease. "What the hell was that? What is that thing?" 

"Little gift from Wyatt," Chris said, breathing steadily as the pain began to fade. "Just some electro-shock therapy to try and cure me of my lying ways." 

"You were lying to me?" Bianca demanded sharply. 

"That's what you focus on?" he asked, glancing up in disbelief. 

She gave a long-suffering sigh. "Well, we have to get it off you." 

Chris gave a quick shake of his head. "We can worry about it later." 

"The truth isn't exactly your default setting," Bianca said warily. "Maybe we ought to worry about it now." 

"Wyatt made this thing, so I'm betting there's only two ways to get it off," Chris told her. "Either Wyatt takes it off himself, or I die and it disconnects. And we already decided you're going to kill me, so as far as I'm concerned that's one problem solved." 

"You don't think it's maybe going to be a problem that we're running a con on the most powerful man in the entire world, and you're not able to lie?" Bianca demanded. 

"Not really," Chris said. 

"Chris—" she cried in frustration. 

"Lying is useful," Chris said, reaching out to grab her wrist. "But so is the truth." He pressed the vial of antidote into the palm of her hand. "I can hold my own against Wyatt. You're the one with the hard part, you're the one we've got to get him to believe." 

"Pretending to want to kill you won't be as hard for me as you might think," Bianca said wryly, as she slipped the vial in her pocket. 

"That's good to hear," he said. "Because I need you to hit me." 

"You want—" she broke off, sighing heavily. She knew what he was thinking, but she didn't like it. "Do you really think that's necessary?" 

"We need him distracted. This will distract him," he said easily. "It won't matter how angry with me he is, he'll take any injury to me as a personal insult. If I'm hurt, it'll keep him from just throwing me in lock-up before we have a chance to do anything. He'll want to know what happened first. He'll probably want to heal me." 

Bianca nodded, and gave him no warning as she pulled her arm back and hit him full force on his left cheek. He spun with the force of the blow, catching himself on his hands before he could slam into the floor. 

"Son of a—" he cursed, before pushing himself back up. Bianca didn't let him fully stand before she swung again, just a little higher, catching her knuckles right against his brow bone. 

Chris felt his magic protesting against his restraint as he held back. It was practically leaking out his fingertips as it tried to fight back on instinct. He curled his hands to fists to pull it back. 

"Good enough?" Bianca asked, tilting her head as she watched him. 

"No," Chris said, climbing back to his feet. "Do it again." 

Bianca inwardly cursed stubborn Halliwells as she swung again, hitting him from the other side, right on the mouth. This time he was prepared and stayed on his feet, lifting a hand to wipe at the blood forming where his lip had split. She'd purposely hit the areas likely to show the most damage, in the least amount of hits, but she might have managed it a little too well. 

"Well? How do I look?" he asked. 

His split lip was already swelling, and so was his eye. The bruise along his cheekbone was blooming to life, going from a dusty sprinkling of black to a deeper purple. She swallowed hard at the damage she'd caused. 

"Well, if you wanted Wyatt mad, he's gonna be mad," she said, ignoring the anxious feeling crawling through the pit of her stomach. Not much scared her, but Wyatt definitely made the top of the short list. "I just hope you know what you're doing. Do you remember when the witch-hunters cut your wrist? That took him all of fifteen seconds to fix, and…" She broke off, remembering the sound of the screams. "And Wyatt had them all turned inside out while their hearts were still beating." 

"What?" Chris looked up at her, startled, his eyes widening in horror. "No he didn't. No, he told me—" 

"Your brother doesn't tell you everything," she said. "He doesn't even tell you most things. And if he did that to them over a little scratch…well, we're playing with fire." 

"That can't be true," he protested. "He forbid me from going down there again. He—" 

"He just didn't want you to go back down there and find it empty. You had to know he wasn't going to risk you getting hurt again," she said gently. "This can't come as a surprise." 

Chris was going alarmingly pale, and Bianca wished she could take the words back. "I thought I was holding him back at least a little," he said faintly. "I knew it wasn't much, but I thought I was doing some good. And all along what, I've been making it even worse?" 

"No, you have been making a difference!" Bianca insisted. "You've just had to do it all behind his back, it's just that…Wyatt's been doing the same to you. He lets you help plan the battles with the least amount of bloodshed possible, then he sends you away and spills as much blood as he likes." 

"And you knew all this? Why didn't you tell me he was gonna kill the witch-hunters?" Chris demanded. "I would have—" 

"Wyatt told me not to," she said. "And you couldn't have stopped it. If you'd tried, he'd have just made you watch. You wouldn't have wanted that. Believe me." 

"Oh god," Chris gasped, feeling light-headed. "All of them? I would never have—has he done stuff like that before? Because of me?" He looked back at her sharply, steeling his resolve. "How many people has he killed because of me?" 

"Chris, trust me," she said gently. "You don't want to know." 

He backed away from her, running a hand through his hair. "I have to get out of here," he whispered. "I have to get out before I forget who I am." 

"I’m sorry," she said, reaching out for him. She really hadn't expected him to care so much about a bunch of witch-hunters, it had just been a throwaway warning meant to get him to take this seriously. While she wouldn't have wished what Wyatt had done to them on anyone, it wasn't as though it were entirely undeserved. She'd have killed them herself, given the chance, it just would have been a whole lot quicker. "I shouldn't have told you. I didn't think." 

"I'm glad you told me. I've let myself be sheltered long enough. It's time to get out," he snapped, pushing past her towards a map of the world he had tacked up on the wall. He pointed to a pushpin on the western edge of Colorado. There was a photo pinned there, of what looked like a half-finished apartment complex. "This is where you'll need to take us once we have the key. It's empty, so I never strengthened the wards too much. Wyatt's key will get you through the wards no problem, but they should still be strong enough to hide us for awhile at least." 

"Maybe we should talk about this, Chris," she said, watching as he buried his uncertainty and his grief beneath his resolve. She was only just learning how truly talented Chris was with masks. 

He ignored her, keeping his eyes on the map. "If this doesn't work, I want you to use the key and get out without me," he said. "Wyatt will be after Perry, and he'll forget about Bianca, so long as he never knows you're the one behind that glamour." 

"No," she said simply. 

"Think about everything you've just told me," he said, turning to glare at her. "If things go bad, and you stick around, I can't protect you from him. Staying here to die won't save me. It'll just make things worse for me, because whatever he does to you, he'll make me watch. So if you don't want to do it for yourself, then do it for me." 

"I won't make any promises," she said, shaking her head. "You think you'd be safe here just because he won't kill you, but you know that's not true. You still wouldn't be safe. He'll…he'll twist you into something you're not, if you force his hand. He'll make you into what he wants, just like he's done with everything else." 

"I know that," Chris said, looking away. "Which is why you need to be long gone, if that happens." 

"You won't ever do it, will you? Even now. Even after everything he's done," she said, reaching out to run her fingers gently over his forming bruises. Bianca knew Chris would die to save the world, and it was so hard to come to terms with the fact that he'd also die for the one destroying it. "You really can't kill him." 

"No," Chris admitted, his eyes skittering guiltily away. "I really can't." 

"I think I finally understand," she said, nodding absently, and she felt as though she'd come to some kind of decision. She looked back at him, her brown eyes resolute. 

What she didn't say was that if it came to it, she would do it for him. One way or another, one of the Halliwell brothers was going to die tonight. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

Wyatt was secure enough in his own talents to admit that his brother's tunnel network had been masterful. He had been too angry to admire them properly when he first discovered them, but later…later, he had seen the beauty there. They were such a perfect example of his brother's magic: delicate and elaborate, winding and well thought out. 

Wyatt liked big explosions and dramatic flair—his brother was far more devious, his magic cleverer and harder to catch. Wyatt was many things, but he had never been accused of being subtle. Not like Chris.

For all that his brother's telekinesis was one of the strongest active powers any living witch possessed, equal in power to their long dead charmed aunt and second only to Wyatt himself, it had never been his greatest strength. Chris could read situations with uncanny accuracy, could pin down in moments just how to slip out of them. He didn't have countless powers and he was somewhat lacking in raw strength, but put him in an empty cell guarded with the strongest wards in existence and he'll still find a way out. 

Wyatt had been thinking about this all the wrong way. His brother may be an expert at patching things together on the fly, but Wyatt would have at least caught some sign of him by now. The thing he'd forgotten was that Chris was also the one that always had a back up plan for the back up plan. 

The fact that he had discovered nothing of real importance in his brother's room meant it was a safe bet that whatever Chris was using to hide, it had already been in place. He'd likely been building his hiding spot for awhile now.

That was both a weakness and strength, because the more magic he was using to hide, the more magic that was being _used_. And his brother could not hide his magic from him, with or without their bond: this was Wyatt's dominion. 

"Blood of a whitelighter, blood of a witch," Wyatt spoke. "Show me magic that shines brighter, in this under-world of pitch." 

He sliced open the palm of his hand, and let a handful of blood droplets drip down onto the map. They landed on the canvas, but did not splatter—the droplets stayed suspended above the fibers of the blueprints. The blood slipped along the lines of the hallways, all of it rushing towards the same place. 

It was pulled up to the edge of a wall on Level 6, and there it deflated, spreading into a deep red stain, like an X on a treasure map.

"Found you," Wyatt whispered. 

He shimmered out and reappeared right in front of the wall from the map. He watched it curiously, seeing nothing amiss. One of his scans slipped down the hall towards him, and that was the first sign something was wrong. It stuttered for a moment in front of him, as though working against an invisible barrier, before eventually losing the fight and moving on. 

Wyatt turned narrowed eyes back towards the wall. There was nothing there—but something was there. 

"This area has already been searched," a voice called to him. 

Wyatt glanced up. The demon smiled calmly back at him. She had long blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and her make-up was impeccable. She looked more like a high-powered lawyer than a demon, but then she had always hidden her other half well. 

"Sabine," he greeted disinterestedly. "What are you doing here?" 

"I was told your best and brightest were dropping like flies," she said. She glanced at him appraisingly. "And I doubt Christopher is going to make it easy for you to find him. Thought I should come and help." 

"Why would you wish to search for my brother, and not Perry like everyone else?" he asked. 

"Because I suspect that they're in the same place," she told him.

"I just killed your boyfriend for telling me much the same thing," he told her, half-watching her out of the corner of his eye to see if he'd have to worry about her doing something stupid, like some pointless gambit for revenge. Sabine and Tinx had been together off and on for nearly half a century, but he was pretty certain demons couldn't actually love. 

"Saves me the trouble of breaking up with him again," she said with a shrug, looking utterly unconcerned. "But that doesn't change that he was right. Christopher is trying to get out, and we both know he's smart. He won't turn down help. Whether he was working with Perry in the past or not, you can bet he's with him now." 

"What if it isn't help that Perry is offering?" Wyatt asked. 

"All the more reason to find Christopher first," she said. She watched Wyatt carefully. "I heard about Martin. Chances are Christopher got Martin to give up one of his hiding places, and he's holed up there. You know Martin had plenty of them. We should be on the upper levels." 

"Chris wouldn't have trusted Martin," Wyatt said, utterly certain. "No. He's here." 

"Here?" Sabine asked, raising an eyebrow. She glanced between the wall and Wyatt. "My lord, there isn't anything down here." 

Wyatt didn't bother to turn back towards her. He placed his hand against the wall with a frown, and felt the warm steady beat of his brother's magic crawling through it. 

"Yes there is," he said. 

The wall lit up beneath the palm of his hand, bright red and burning—and slowly, he began melting straight through the stone. 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Bianca didn't turn to watch Chris as he moved about the small room, gathering up anything he thought they might be able to use—Chris had always been just a little bit untouchable, being the brother of the near-invincible Wyatt Halliwell. It looked wrong somehow to see him bruised and bloodied.

"You really think this will work?" she asked. She was getting pre-job jitters like she'd never had in her life. She knew what Wyatt would do to her if she was found out, she had seen it all more times than she could count. She wasn't afraid to die, but that was the least of what he'd do to her if she was caught. 

"I know it will," Chris assured her. "He's already convinced it's going to happen." 

She finally turned back to face him. "What do you mean?" 

Chris hesitated. It was quick, and would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but Bianca didn't miss it. "He's always been worried I would die young. It's sort of a Halliwell tradition." 

"No, that's not all. You're not telling me something," she said, reaching out to grab his arm, looking at the bracelet. "This means you can't lie, right? So tell me: are you hiding something from me?" 

"Yes," Chris answered patiently. "Probably lots of things. Probably so many things, that I've actually forgotten some of them." He gently pulled away from her. "But none of that matters. What matters is that I know this will work." 

"Okay," she said, blowing out a breath and then putting on her professional mask. "Fine. Then, let's run it through. Where are we going to do this?" 

"We're going to the book," he told her. "Won't take Wyatt long to find us once we're there." 

"The book?" she repeated. "Meaning, the Book of Shadows? You really have lost your mind. I think Wyatt has more protections on that damn book than he's put on you. Nobody even knows where it is."

"I know where it is," Chris said. "And I can take us there." 

She shook her head. "It'll be too well-warded. We'll be trapped the moment we're there."

"Not if we get the key," he reminded her. "If we have that, it won't matter what wards we're locked behind. Besides, there's something in that room I need for this to work, and we have to have a reason for you being here in the first place." 

"What do you mean?" she asked. 

"Perry's a good witch, supposedly. He wouldn't come here just to kill me in front of Wyatt, it wouldn't serve a purpose. It's too theatrical, and Wyatt would get suspicious." He glanced up. "If Perry's here for the book, and just using me to get it, that makes sense. I'm just the collateral damage."

"And also, you conveniently end up with the book," Bianca snapped. "Don't act like this hasn't been part of your plan all along." 

"Okay, yes, I would like to have the book," he agreed. "But it also gives us a believable reason for you coming here and killing me. It's win-win."

"It's convenient, is what it is—" Bianca started to protest, cutting off as a bright red light flashed across them. She glanced across the wall with a frown. "What—" 

"Wyatt," Chris whispered, and Bianca followed his gaze to the other wall. The stones were burning red, just a small circle, but getting bigger by the minute. "He found us." 

"Right," she said. "To the book it is, then." 

Chris shook his head, stepping away from her. "I can't let him find any of this. There are Resistance locations on that map, and too much he could use to track me or the other members," he protested. "I've got to get rid of it." 

"We don't have time," Bianca started. 

He ignored her, closing his eyes against the magic that was seeping into his sanctuary from the hall. "Make this hidden room as quiet as a tomb," he said. "Clear out this space, leave no trace." 

Everything on the shelves, _and_ the shelves, blinked out of existence all at once, leaving a bare room with four walls. He opened his eyes and nearly walked right into Bianca. She was watching him with a strange little grin. "What?" 

"Just…you good witches and your rhyming," she snorted. 

"We don't have to rhyme. Paige once vanquished an upper-level demon by haiku," he told her, flashing a grin. "Though I haven't tried it, personally." 

Another flash of red light pulsed through the room, and Chris's grin faded as he looked back towards the glowing wall. He swallowed hard as he saw how close his brother was to getting inside. 

He was about to reach out for Bianca when he noticed something lying on the floor, the only thing his spell hadn't erased. He kneeled down to pick it up. 

It was the portrait of Wyatt and his parents. 

"Chris, we really need to get out of here," Bianca told him. "Now." 

Chris glanced back up to the wall, and there was a small hole forming. He could see the palm of his brother's hand through it, clear enough he was able to make out the lifeline dividing it across the center. He reached out and grabbed Bianca's arm. 

"Shimmer," he said. "I'll show you where we need to go." 

She pulled them away just before the wall burst apart, and they stumbled as they materialized in another one of the palace rooms. Chris took a deep breath as he tried to orient himself from the shimmering, and Bianca glanced around suspiciously. "Where are we?" she asked, letting her eyes roam across the high ceilings. 

It looked like a large ballroom, and it seemed very out of place. Then again, Wyatt did like his Roman architecture, so she supposed she should stop being surprised by the incongruity. 

Chris reached out and grabbed Bianca's hand, tugging her along behind him to the other end of the large room. He reached out and pressed his hand against the wall, and a doorway appeared. 

Bianca sucked in a breath as she felt the magic guarding this place. She would be able to navigate it now that a door was opened, but she wondered how Chris was able to so completely circumvent it in the first place. 

"How did you bypass his magic?" she asked. 

"I didn't," Chris told her, as he dropped her hand and stepped inside. "He gave me permission to be here. I guess he hasn't had a chance to revoke my privileges just yet." 

The book stood in front of them, light dusting down upon it from some unknown source. Chris had to catch his breath as he approached it, feeling the power even from this far away. His eyes glanced off the walls. 

"There's your Elders," he whispered. He remembered the photo, and glanced down at it. He could take it with him, but…he let it slip from his fingers and flutter down towards the floor. "And a child." 

"What are you doing?" she asked. 

"Just setting the scene," he told her, as he moved around to the other side of the podium. There were a series of large decorative columns spread in a circle around the book, blocking out bits of the mural with lines of shadow.

"This place gives me the creeps," Bianca said, as she glanced across the mural. "Who even painted this?" 

"I don't think it's a painting," Chris said after a moment. He'd thought before that it was, but it was too pristine. The ceiling glittered, the faces bright almost like they were alive. The Underworld chipped away at everything, rusted it and faded it in a matter of days instead of years…this was magic—a spell had created this beautiful and terrible masterpiece. 

His eyes found the Elder called Gideon, and the man stared back at him dispassionately from his place on the wall, his lips turned half down in a sneer. 

"They've moved," Chris said in horror, a sense of dread crawling through him so quickly he almost lost his footing. 

"It's enchanted?" Bianca asked, leaning forward to examine an Elder with a frown. The Elder's eyes were closed, his hands pressed to his stomach, the lines of his face all pressed together in pain. "What's the point of that?" 

Chris hesitantly reached out and touched the tip of a finger to the wall, before pulling away again like he'd been burned. "When he destroyed the elders, he never told us how he did it," he said, pushing away from the walls in unease. He thought he saw Gideon's eyes tracking his every move, but he couldn't actually pinpoint where the picture had changed. "This is—he didn't completely get rid of them after all, he just trapped them here, like fireflies in a jar." 

Bianca's eyes widened in understanding. "This is a prison." 

"Yes. They're trapped in the walls," Chris said, the tone of his voice something between terror and reverence. Sometimes it still surprised even him, the things his brother was capable of. 

"How is that possible?" she asked, stepping back to join Chris at a safer distance. 

"It's Wyatt," Chris answered simply. "I always wondered…I didn't understand how even Wyatt could have killed all of the Elders so quickly. It must be some sort of spell, he trapped them all." 

She nodded. She had never thought to wonder about that, because Wyatt tended to give the impression that there was nothing that he could not do—but it made sense, in hindsight. Wyatt may have the power to kill an Elder, but he'd been greatly outnumbered and despite his massive demon army, very few if any of them could have taken on an Elder themselves. Wyatt wouldn't have had much in the way of help. 

"That's just perfect. Like we needed another complication," she sighed. "Well, can you get them out?" 

Chris sidestepped her, eyeing the mural with distrust. "Do we really want to try?" 

She spun to look at him in surprise. "Aren't the Elders good?" 

"Maybe, but they're also dangerous." He pulled his eyes from the walls and turned back towards the book. "Anyway, we have bigger priorities. We need the book." 

"Chris," she started with a frown.

"I don't know how to undo Wyatt's magic, so it's besides the point whether or not I'd want to let them back out," he said, distractedly. 

"You're part-whitelighter," she said. "Aren't they sort of…part of you? I knew Wyatt hated the Elders, but you—" 

"I don't hate them. I just don't trust them. I'm not sure they wouldn't make things even worse," he explained warily. "But believe me when I say, there's nothing I can do about it right now. We'd need time and plan, neither of which we're going to get unless we manage to get out of here." 

He let his eyes rest on the Book of Shadows. "The book is going to be enough of a challenge for now." 

Bianca nodded, realizing he was right. In any case she was not exactly comfortable around Elder magic herself. Her clan was neutral and so pretty much off the Elder's radar whilst they'd been active, but she couldn't say she trusted them any more than Chris. She looked back to where he hovered almost reverently over the book. 

"I'll just grab it before we shimmer out," she said with a shrug. 

"The protections aren't just in the room, some are on the book itself," he said. "He'll have something in place to keep it from being taken from this room." 

"Can you get past it?" Bianca asked, as she stepped towards him. 

"Maybe," he frowned. "Wyatt laid these traps out himself. He wouldn't have trusted the book to anyone else." He shook his head. "You might have to bargain for it." 

"You want me to bargain with Wyatt Halliwell," she said in disbelief. "For the Book of Shadows." 

"We might need him to take the book from the stand himself," he explained, glancing back at her. "So, yeah. Try to get him to give it to you in exchange for my life. Then kill me anyway and get us out." 

"Don't you think that's pushing our luck a bit?" she asked. 

"If there's something that can save Wyatt, save any of us, it's going to be in that book," Chris said, pointing back towards it. "Trust me, I've spent the last years going through all the rest of them, and I haven't found anything." 

"And you really think he'll give it up for you?" Bianca asked quietly. 

"Yes," Chris said. "If only because he'll be confident in getting it back. Wyatt is good at prioritizing. He'll try to save me first, then go after the book." 

"And what happens when I shimmer out of here with both?" she asked. 

"We hide," Chris said. 

"Chris—" she snapped. 

"We hide really well?" Chris tried, glancing underneath the podium for any further triggers. 

"I still say—" she started. 

"You can't kill him," Chris interrupted sharply, looking up angrily. "Promise me." 

"What's a promise really mean between us?" she asked. "We've both broken plenty." 

"But you always do the job you're meant to, and this is the job, Bianca," he insisted. 

"Not always, not anymore," she reminded him. "I've failed once before." 

"For the right reasons," Chris said. 

"I'm still not convinced letting Wyatt live is what's right," she said, watching him carefully. "Are you?" 

Chris looked back at the book. "That's the only thing that I'm sure of." 

"Okay," she said finally. "Okay, fine. I said we'd try it your way and we will, but, Chris—" 

"I'm really not ready to talk about what we might have to do if this doesn't work," he told her. "One thing at a time." 

He kept his eyes on the book, narrowing them as he examined it and tried to feel for his brother's magic. This close to the power of a Halliwell legacy, it was hard to pinpoint Wyatt's additions. 

"Should you be messing with that?" Bianca asked. "I thought you said it was protected." 

"Yeah, but Wyatt gave me permission to be here, and it would be better if we could get it ourselves. So maybe…" He carefully lifted the cover to try and look beneath it, and he heard a dangerous click. "Uh oh," he whispered. "I think I just tripped an alarm." 

He started to back away when something flew towards him, snapping around his wrists, and dragging him back to the podium. He slammed into the bookstand hard enough to knock the air out of him, and the length of rope that had snagged him shortened, tethering him to the stand. 

"Shit," he cursed, tugging at the silvered ropes. He let his head fall against the podium with a sigh. "He said I could _look_ , I guess he didn't trust even me not to _take_." 

He let himself collapse to the floor, his arms suspended above him now by the rope. He should have known it was all going too well. He should have guessed Wyatt would have had something in place in case he tried to take the book out of this room—and he knew this particular little booby-trap had been left specifically for him, because Wyatt's traps were generally a bit more fatal than this. 

Bianca pulled out the athame and kneeled beside him. "Here, let me—" 

"No, wait," Chris cried, before she could cut him loose. "Leave it." 

"Chris?" she asked. 

He pulled absently at the bonds. "There isn't time," he explained. "I'll distract him, just like we planned." 

Chris turned towards the door as a vibration started to crawl across the floor. The door was rocking on its hinges, and the ground had started to shake beneath their feet. 

"He's coming," he breathed. "Hide." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

The wall burned deep red, bits of stone dripping down from the hole he was forming like slips of molten lava. Wyatt felt the exact moment Chris's wards broke, fleeing in all directions like whispers, gone so fast it was as if they were never there. The wall burst apart, scattering to all corners of the room.

The empty room. 

Wyatt had not really expected his brother to be here. The magic he'd used was flashy and would have served as a warning, he had intended to flush Chris out. But he'd also wanted to get here before Chris could cover his tracks, and that obviously wasn't the case. 

He felt his anger begin to simmer as he took in the blank walls and the spotless, empty stone flooring. Whatever Chris had been keeping here, it was doubtful Wyatt would get his hands on any of it now. Chris wouldn't have risked moving any of it—he would have destroyed it. 

Wyatt took some comfort in the fact that there was nowhere, at least, for Chris to go now. Now that he was no longer behind the wards, it was only a matter of time before his brother was back in his custody. 

"What's the purpose of this room?" Sabine asked. 

Wyatt glanced behind him, having nearly forgotten she was there. She stepped inside of the room carefully. Sabine was only half-demon, but he knew not to underestimate her. She did not exactly have an active power of her own—but she could mirror the powers of whoever she'd last touched. The only one it didn't seem to work on was him, and perhaps Chris, if it was his whitelighter blood that stopped her. He'd never let her close enough to his brother to test the theory. 

"I want you to find a seer," Wyatt told her. "Get their powers, and kill them. Return here and see if you can divine what he was keeping here." 

"Of course," Sabine said smoothly. "But—" 

"I don't want anyone else to know about this," Wyatt snapped, before she could ask why they wouldn't just let the seer come themselves. "I am trusting you because you are already here, and I'd hate to lose any more of my best people today. But do not think I will spare you if you breathe a word of this to anyone." 

"Yes, my lord," she said, looking less than bothered by the threat. "I've always thought I'd make an excellent psychic." 

"You'd better be the best," Wyatt said, glancing at the bare walls with a sense of unease he couldn't shake. _What have you been up to, Christopher?_

Wyatt turned back towards the hall, preparing to return to the map now that Chris was outside of the wards, but a snap of magic in the back of his mind pulled him to a stop. 

The book— _that ungrateful little brat_. 

"Sire?" Sabine questioned curiously, noticing his distraction. 

Wyatt had considered Chris might go for the book, but the trap he laid had almost been an afterthought. Chris had to know he wasn't getting out of here, let alone getting away with the book, and that the attempt would only lead Wyatt straight to him. His brother was rarely so careless.

The thought worried at the back of his mind, but he didn't have time to hesitate. "Do as I've ordered," he told Sabine. "I need to go retrieve Christopher." 

"But, my lord—" Sabine started, and he ignored her. 

"This is a family matter," he told her dismissively, and stepped forward only to shimmer out and appear in the middle of his ballroom. He continued moving forward, his anger leaking out beneath his feet. Wyatt had perfect control over his magic, but he knew the value of sometimes letting it loose. 

His brother wasn't afraid of Wyatt's powers—he was the only one that wasn't—but he was wise enough to be wary. 

And he should be. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Bianca melted into the room like a shadow. He saw her move towards one of the columns out of the corner of his eye, and then she was gone. Her particular type of magic was rare: a neutral variant of witchcraft, with a signature that was neither evil nor good and could slip under anyone's radar unnoticed. It was why the Phoenixes were born assassins, and it was why Wyatt kept such tight control over their clans. 

Even Wyatt wouldn't know she was in the room with them unless he saw her—and Bianca wouldn't be seen until she wanted to be.

Everything was going to plan, but Chris couldn't stop the panic rising up in his chest. He felt his heart going frantic, and he wrapped his fingers around the rope, trying to hold himself up, trying to breathe. He couldn't even say exactly what was terrifying him: maybe he was afraid to fail, maybe he was afraid to succeed. He worried for Bianca, if they were caught. He worried for Wyatt, if they weren't. 

And all along, he just kept picturing the witch-hunters in their miserable cells, dirtied and almost skeletal, being torn apart by Wyatt just because Chris had tried to help them. 

Wyatt's arrival was quieter than Chris expected. The door didn't slam open, it just disappeared. Wyatt strolled in with magic rolling off him in waves, so much that the space around him looked like a mirage. Chris turned his face half away, hiding his bruises against his raised arm.

"Christopher, Christopher," Wyatt tsked, his gentle tone belying his obvious anger. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" 

He swallowed hard, watching his brother warily. "Don't act like you didn't plan this," he said. He could feel the power of the ropes spinning around him—restricting his ability to orb—it was obviously made to bind a whitelighter. 

"Well, yes. But I didn't honestly expect you'd be foolish enough I'd catch you here," he said, kneeling down in front of Chris. His eyes narrowed when he realized his brother was avoiding his gaze. "What—" he started, before an anger started to burn in his chest. He reached out and grabbed Chris's chin, gripping it painfully tight as he forced his brother to face him.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Wyatt snarled, his triumph at finally finding him fading as he took in the damage to his little brother. 

"I'm fine," Chris insisted instantly, instinct driving him to try and calm Wyatt down. "It's nothing." 

"This is not _nothing_. This is exactly why I have always kept you so close," he snapped. "I'm not your enemy, Christopher, but you seem to forget that we have plenty of them." 

Chris felt the warmth of his brother's healing immediately, though he noticed that Wyatt made no move to untie him. "Wyatt—"

"Stay still," he commanded impatiently, turning Chris's head further to the side to watch the bruises disappear. "Who did this to you?" 

"The one the guards are calling Perry," Chris said. 

"Still trying to get around the truth?" Wyatt asked wearily, nodding towards the bracelet. "You say that's what the witch is called, but is it Perry? Or is it Bianca? Because last I checked, so-called good witches couldn't shimmer." 

"Bianca isn't Perry. I didn't recognize this witch when I saw them, and they told me to call them Perry, that's the truth," Chris told him. "With this stupid bracelet, you know it has to be." 

Chris thought he detected a slight heat to the bracelet, as though it knew just how much he was twisting the truth and was issuing a warning. He was grateful that Wyatt didn't seem to notice. 

Wyatt was far too preoccupied with checking Chris over for further damage, though the anger burning in his eyes had not exactly disappeared. "And our bond breaking?" he asked angrily. "Was that Perry as well?" 

"No," Chris admitted, his voice barely audible. "That was me." 

"Why?" he demanded roughly. 

"You were going to erase my memories," Chris bit out, some of his own anger slipping through. "I couldn't just sit back and let that happen." 

"How did you do it?" Wyatt asked. The healing grip he had on Chris's chin turning painful just as suddenly as he gripped him tighter. "Answer me, Christopher." 

"Disunity Potion," he gasped. "Wyatt—" 

"I'm going to undo it," Wyatt told him, and it was something between a promise and a threat. Wyatt let him go after another quick healing burst, but he kept his gaze focused entirely on Chris. "What the hell were you thinking, trying something like that? And the book, really? You had to have known I'd stop you." 

"You told me I could come here," Chris protested weakly. "It belongs to me, too." 

"Yes, it is ours," Wyatt agreed sharply. "And it belongs here, with us." 

Chris pulled against the ropes, trying to slip backwards along the ground, instinctively wanting to put his distance between himself and his brother. Wyatt reached out grabbed his arm, his thumb digging into the crease of his elbow, swiftly holding him in place. 

"Haven't I given you everything?" he demanded. "Haven't I protected you? Have I ever let you get hurt?" 

"You hurt me," Chris said quietly, searching his brother's eyes, wondering how Wyatt couldn't see what he was doing, even now. "You do it all the time." 

"I keep you safe!" Wyatt yelled, gripping Chris's arm tight enough to cause him to wince. "And if you hadn't destroyed our bond, I never would have allowed you to get hurt. I would have been there to stop it." 

"You just want to control me," Chris said, and it's not like it wasn't something he already knew, but it still broke his heart a little every time he said it—and at the same time, it strengthened his resolve. "You want to control everything, Wyatt. Demons. Warlocks. Witches. _The Elders_. But I've told you before, you _can't_." 

Wyatt's grip on Chris didn't loosen, though he looked suddenly strangely pleased, despite Chris's accusation. Chris wondered if maybe Wyatt wasn't upset because it wasn't exactly something he took as an insult. Of course Wyatt wanted to control everything: that was the whole point, and Chris had been naïve to ever think that might not include him. 

"Can't I? I think I've done fairly well with _the Elders_. I did wonder if you'd noticed them," Wyatt said thoughtfully, watching Chris for his reaction. "You didn't say." 

"I was distracted by the book the first time, but it's obvious now," he admitted. He didn't know how he had missed it before, but he could feel the eyes on him now. Their penetrating, judgmental gazes. Chris had never mattered to the Elders. He'd been the afterthought, the one they didn't have to worry about. Chris probably could have forgiven that, if his father hadn't been one of them. 

"What did you do to them?" he asked. 

"Less than they deserved," Wyatt said, and abruptly released his grip on Chris. "But unfortunately, you cannot exactly kill what's already dead. I could have sent them on, of course, trapped them on the other side with the rest of the dead, but the thought of them still up there…watching….well, I figured it was time someone got to watch over them, instead." 

"How did you do it?" he asked, hating himself for the bit of awe that had crept into his voice. He knew he should be horrified. He wanted to be horrified, and he was.

But part of him was still so impressed by his big brother, who could do absolutely anything. 

"I would teach you all I know," Wyatt said, " _if_ I could be certain of your loyalty. But you're still loyal to them."

"Who? The Elders?" He frowned. "I'm not loyal to th—" 

"To our aunts!" he interrupted with an impatient snarl. "They try to kill you, and still you side with them. I can see it. No one thinks I can, but I know you, and I can see it." 

"I am loyal to you, Wyatt," Chris said softly.

Wyatt's eyes turned towards the bracelet, waiting for the inevitable reaction—but it didn't come. He glanced back at his brother curiously. "But not to my cause," he realized, and though he still looked frustrated, his expression had softened. 

Chris didn't answer. Wyatt wouldn't want to hear the truth he'd already figured out for himself, and he wasn't able to lie. 

"Now I've let you distract me enough," Wyatt said. 

Chris had to bite down his panic at mention of distraction, but Wyatt just stared back at him calmly. He couldn't possibly know what Chris was actually distracting him from. 

"You're not getting out of your punishment," Wyatt elaborated. 

"Right," he said, hiding his relief carefully. It wasn't actually a situation where relief would make sense. "So now what? You take my memories?"

"I think it's a little late for that now, don't you?" he asked, his tone turning patronizing. "You need to be taught a lesson, and if I just let you forget everything, you won't ever learn." 

"Then what are you going to do to me?" he asked warily.

"Oh, I'm not going to do anything to _you_. I'm going to track down every Resistance contact you have, and everyone that helped you defy me, and together, we're going to kill them. You will learn to listen to me, Chris. I only want what's best for you." 

Chris caught his breath, imagining being stuck here with Wyatt, forced to watch his friends die one after another, if he and Bianca didn't succeed. "Wyatt, you can't—" 

"I will find a way to restore our bond, and you will stop fighting me," he said peremptorily. "Oh, and you're grounded. Indefinitely. You obviously can't be trusted to take care of yourself." 

Chris wanted to rage back at him like he usually would, to fight against this and plead and bargain and promise the way he would have before. It was instinct, but his words wouldn't matter now. This was goodbye, even if Wyatt didn't know it. At this particular moment, Chris had to try to save himself. He would worry about saving his brother and the rest of the world once he was free. 

If Wyatt thought his silence was strange, he didn't comment on it. He just stared his brother down. "But first things first," he said. "Where is the one that did this to you?" 

"Right behind you," Chris told him, careful to keep his expression blank.

Wyatt stilled, his eyes slipping down to see an athame had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and was now resting at his throat. "You're making a mistake," he warned dangerously. 

"Oh, don't worry, my lord," Bianca said sweetly, leaning forward so that her words brushed against his ear. "I'm not here for you. Not this time." 

She carefully used the athame to sever the cord around his neck, snatching up the key with her free hand and pushing it into her pocket. 

Wyatt started to spin around to confront her, the athame missing his skin by less than half an inch, but Bianca was already shimmering out, and she had reformed behind Chris before Wyatt had fully turned around. She locked one arm under his chin and dragged him up to his feet and back against her, cutting the rope tying him to the podium with the athame before lifting it to hold it against his heart. 

"What are you doing, what do you hope to accomplish?" Wyatt snarled, turning back to face them. He stepped forward, and Bianca pulled Chris another step back. "Your quarrel is with me." 

"Yes, but you're not so easy to kill," Bianca said, and tossed him a sly grin. "Anyone with a brain knows your brother is your Achilles Heel. So I get what I want or I'm gonna hit you where it hurts." 

"If you touch him—" Wyatt warned dangerously. 

"I don't have to touch him, but if this athame so much as scratches him, he's dead," she said. "It's cursed—but you're the twice-blessed, so I'm sure you can feel it. Don't get any ideas about taking it, either, because it's warded so it cannot be removed by magic from the hand that holds it. You make one wrong move, you try to blast us or pull him away and, well, you're a smart boy, I'm sure you know what happens next." 

"What do you want?" Wyatt demanded. 

"What do you think? I want the book," Bianca said. 

"The book can't leave this room," Wyatt said. "I've taken measures to ensure that, and even I can't undo them quickly." 

"You better think of a way," she said. "My hand is already getting tired. Wait too long, and it might slip." 

"Wyatt, please," Chris said carefully. He couldn't ask Wyatt to hand over the book, because Wyatt knew he would never want it out of Halliwell hands—but he couldn't lie and ask him not to give it to her while he had the bracelet on, either. Still, the vague plea seemed to have the right effect. 

Wyatt carefully raised his hands, as though he were harmless, and Bianca tensed even further. 

"Okay, fine, you want the stupid book? You can take it, I don't care, but let him go," he said. "You get one shot at this trade. Give him to me, and you might just make it out of this alive." 

"The book first," Bianca insisted. 

"Don't say I didn't try," Wyatt told her.

Before she could decipher Wyatt's meaning, the athame pulled forward abruptly, safely away from Chris's heart, and she was sent flying back. Chris spun in concern, stumbling forward a step only to find himself blocked as he was quickly encircled by Wyatt's shield. 

Bianca hit the back wall hard, and she could feel small, trickling lines of blood running down one side of her head as the impact sunk in. She glanced up at Wyatt in surprise, unsure how he'd gotten past the wards on the athame. 

"You said the athame couldn't leave your hand," Wyatt explained in answer to the unasked question, as he purposefully approached her. His tone was calm and almost kind, making it deadly in a way that left Bianca cold. "Well, I haven't touched it. I just moved your _hand_." 

"Wyatt, don't—" Chris started, frustrated as he pushed against the shield with his still bound hands. He should have expected Wyatt to find a way around their plans. They should have escaped the moment they had that key in their hands. He had been greedy, trying to get the book, and it was going to cost Bianca her life. 

"You stay quiet," Wyatt said offhandedly. "I'll deal with you in a moment." 

Bianca's eyes slipped towards Chris, and he mouthed to her urgently: Get out! Go!

Bianca looked back at Wyatt for a moment, her eyes turning calculating, and then she shimmered out. 

She appeared again a second later inside of Wyatt's shield with Chris, and pulled him back up against her. Wyatt whirled around, staring at her in disbelief. 

But Wyatt Halliwell wasn't the only one that could exploit a loophole. 

And Bianca had Wyatt's key: a key that could make it through any ward or shield. It had no trouble at all getting through his own. 

She pressed the athame back up against Chris's side. Instead of tensing, Chris went relaxed against her, preparing for the hit. Bianca didn't waste any more time, because she knew they didn't have it. 

"Don't say I didn't try," she threw back at him, and thrust the athame up through Chris's side. She pressed it in until the blade settled right beneath his ribs, just millimeters from his lung. 

"No—" Wyatt roared, rushing forward. 

Chris gasped out in surprise and pain, despite having tried to prepare himself for it. He lost his balance and fell back against Bianca as she pulled the athame out again. Chris glanced up at his brother as the world began to go fluid around him, and the pain he saw reflected back broke his heart, but it was too late to stop this now. 

"Wy—" Chris started, his voice breaking as the pain spread. "Wy, I'm sorry—" 

He could see his vision blacking out, imagined he heard the sound of his heart as it stopped. The bracelet around his wrist detected the death creeping up on him, and with a delicate click, unlatched. 

Then he fell limp in Bianca's arms, utterly still, and she shimmered them both away, the shield they left behind faltering before flickering out, leaving Wyatt alone. 

Wyatt stumbled forward to where they had been, reaching out instinctively with his senses for Chris, forgetting for a moment that even if his brother still lived, their bond had been broken. There was nothing there, nothing answering back, no presence occupying the back corner of his mind. 

There was just an old photograph, lying torn on the ground, and the bracelet he'd made sitting there with its circle broken open. It had been designed to work with Chris's magic—the only thing that could have broken it was if that magic had gone. 

His rage broke free from his body as the last of his denials fled. He reached down and crushed the photograph in his hand, as a storm began crawling up from his soul to cover the earth. Rolling black clouds and lightning rushed across from one side of the world to the other as his pain broke loose, covering everything in darkness. 

It was a power even Wyatt hadn't known he had: a spell cast, and not a single word said. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Chris. 

Chris. Wake up. Please.

Chris. 

Chris shot up straight, pulling in air so fast he almost choked on it. He gasped as he tried to steady his breathing, but he kept sucking in more air, and he couldn’t seem to remember how to push it back out. He felt Bianca's arms encircling him, pulling him back against her. 

"It's okay," she said. "Just breathe. Come on, just breathe." 

"We didn't get the book," he said, when he was finally getting enough air that he could speak. He felt Bianca go stiff behind him. 

"I don't care about the damn book," she snapped. "We both nearly died." 

"Yeah. Could have gone better. Hurt a lot more than I thought it would," he said weakly. "But we did it." 

"Just barely. I didn't think you were going to wake up," Bianca admitted, and Chris turned his head, trying to see her. "I got you the antidote right away, and your heart restarted, but you've been out for hours." 

"Hours?" he murmured, wincing as a movement pulled his side. 

"Careful," she chided. "I just now stopped the bleeding. Daniel's not answering my call. I don't think he trusts me." 

"He just can't hear you," Chris said, with a shake of his head. "I warded this place against everything, even whitelighters. Wyatt is one, after all." 

"Then we need to get you somewhere else and call him," she insisted. "It's not fatal, but I don't think taking that curse has helped the matter any."

Chris pulled a small potion bottle from his pocket, and downed it quickly. His head started spinning as it began to work, but the pain faded, and when he looked down to check, the wound had nearly closed. "That should be good enough for now," he said. "We can't risk going out into the open just yet." 

"Probably a good idea," Bianca admitted. "Wyatt…" 

Bianca trailed off, and Chris bit his lip, trying to address the situation practically, because he didn't have a choice. He had to think he didn't have a choice. He needed to escape, and this was the only way to do it. 

But he'd never been without his brother: with one single, notable exception, they hadn't been apart for more than a day, in his entire life. 

And now he wasn't just gone, he was _gone_. He couldn't see his brother, and he couldn’t even sense for him. There was nothing. He was alone. 

"He's really gone," he whispered. 

"I’m sorry, Chris," Bianca said, nodding towards a floor length window to their right. "But I don't think it's going to be that easy." 

Chris turned with a frown, pulling himself up to his knees as he gripped his bloodied side. That was when he noticed the storm clouds rushing across the sky, blocking out all of the light. He caught himself with one hand against floor, and felt a faint, almost undetectable tremor in its foundations. 

"It's been happening since we got here," she explained. "I doubt Wyatt's just going to let us disappear." 

"Oh, god," Chris whispered. He remembered the storm the day Wyatt took over, the dragons he had conjured flying over everything. The destruction and the bloodied bodies that had been left in their wake. Wyatt had mostly kept to the Underworld since then, letting his mortal puppets handle mortal affairs, but this was not a good sign of things to come. "This isn't good. He's—I have to go back, I have to—" 

"You can't go back." Bianca grabbed him, pulling him back down to his knees when he tried to stand. "You did what you had to, and you were right. He wouldn't have let you go any other way, and I'm beginning to think I was naïve to think I could kill him." 

Bianca was herself again, but she didn't look the way she usually did. It was like she'd removed all of her own masks along with the glamour, and she was left looking pale and terrified, and trying so hard not to be. 

Only she was right to be terrified. They both knew what they had started, and they both knew there was no going back now. 

"Why do I get this horrible feeling that I've just made everything so much worse?" Chris whispered. 

"We may have underestimated his love for you," she said quietly. "I didn't think he would…well, I thought if you died, he'd just…go on the way he always does. He'd give you up." 

Chris pulled away from her and leaned forward until his forehead rested against the floor. He took in a slow, steadying breath. "Well, we did it. He's not coming for me," he said, before pushing himself back up onto his knees. He looked out the window, watching the storm circle above them without flinching.

"He's coming for Perry."


	4. Three Years Dead

_Three years later_

 

Chris used to wonder, sometimes, if he'd done the right thing. He would think of his mother and the way she always spoke up for what was right, the way she always raised her hands to fight, and he would wonder if that day his brother had come home he should have tried to stop him then. If he should have told him flat out how he felt about what he'd done. 

Now that he'd seen first hand what Wyatt could do to the world on his own, Chris no longer wondered. He knew he'd done the only thing he could. 

Because since the death of Christopher Halliwell, Wyatt had become so much worse. 

The world was shrouded in darkness, inundated with rain and storms. Whatever Wyatt had done the day he lost his brother, the world had not recovered and Wyatt had not bothered to put it right. 

Wyatt didn't take prisoners anymore—he killed those he caught almost outright, or if they happened to be a witch with even a passing connection to Perry, they were taken to be tortured and questioned before being brought to a very public execution. 

It had been Chris's first instinct to go back to his brother to stop it, to try and pull him back from the edge again. 

But then he remembered his promise to Prue. 

And he knew, in his heart, that if he went back to his brother, it wouldn't be like before. He wouldn't be able to drag his brother back from the edge this time, instead his brother would drag him down with him. 

So he stayed hidden even while so many people around him died, Bianca becoming the one constant at his side. They worked desperately to save as many as they possibly could. He was fighting now for what was right, after all, just like his family was known for. Just like he was supposed to.

The Resistance was no longer invisible. Perry wasn't simply spoken of in whispers. He was becoming every bit as well known as Wyatt. The world had been polarized between them: caught in a war that Chris had always known they couldn't win. 

He wondered if his mother would be proud of him now. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt had sworn upon his mother's grave that he would do whatever was necessary to keep his brother safe. He had knelt in the freshly laid grass and made a promise that Chris would not die like she had died, like Prue and Patty and Penny before her. 

His brother would not die for this world.

Wyatt had meant to keep that promise. He had killed to keep it, he had bargained and betrayed and brought the entire world under his control, and it was all a means to an end. It was all about making a world his family could be safe in, one where they didn't have to hide, or fight for people that would have turned on them in an instant had they known the truth. 

Weren't the witch-hunters proof of that? Proof that all the Charmed Ones had done had been for nothing? Forget the innocents, there really wasn't any such thing. They should have been more concerned about saving themselves. 

Wyatt wasn't going to walk the same path they had, and he had meant to take his promise to his grave. But it had been broken, and he had failed. 

He had been warned about the Elders presence at his brother's death, and he had not seen past his own arrogance, his own complacent assurance that he had already destroyed them. He led Chris straight to them. 

He should have ripped their souls to shreds and banished them to the ghostly plane: if there had been no Elders, perhaps his brother would not have died. 

But Wyatt had kept them, like a trophy, a reminder of his power, and Chris had died beside them just as the prophetess told him that he would. 

And he could not stop thinking about what else she had said. 

_He is soaked in the tears of the youngest Charmed One._

He hadn't seen that part of the prophecy come to be, but then, Perry had taken his brother's body from him. And why take him? For what purpose? Wyatt hated the suspicion burning in his soul, but he could not shake the idea that Perry had taken the body to his aunts—wasn't that always the way, when you hired someone for a job? 

If Perry had been enlisted by his aunts to steal the book and kill Chris, Perry would have taken the body to them. It was the end of the Prophecy—it was the only thing that made sense. He did not want to think Paige capable of it, but he had seen it with his own eyes. She would have killed his brother, and while she might have cried for him, she still would have done it.

"Sire?" 

The trick Wyatt had used to find his family the first time had not worked again. He had scryed and summoned and conscripted every seer he could get his hands on, but no one knew where they were. He kept most of his demons on the hunt for Perry, who he so desperately wanted dead, sure that the man could lead him to his family once he was found.

But he had not been as easy to find as Wyatt had expected. In three years, he had not even caught glimpse of him with his own eyes. He had caught any number of his followers, but their loyalty was almost eerie. He had put them through such horrors they should have been begging to tell him Perry's secrets, but none would say a single word about him. 

He knew absolutely nothing about Perry. No one he caught could tell him anything about Perry. There was nothing to _search for_. 

His brother had told him once that Perry was just an idea, and could never be found. The thought wouldn't leave him alone. It had to have been the truth, or at least, Chris had believed it to be, but it was not the whole truth. Perry was a cover for someone, obviously. Someone powerful enough to hide even from him. 

But how was it that no one knew anything about him? That powerful of a witch, someone had to know _something_. 

"Sire? Are you—"

Wyatt casually raised a hand, sending Sabine to her knees with a choking gasp. "If I don't answer you, it's because I don't wish to speak with you," he said, not bothering to look at her. 

Her lips began to tinge blue as she tried to get in air, and with an annoyed sigh, Wyatt released his mental grip. Sabine raised herself back to her feet instead of collapsing when he released his hold, staring at him calmly, looking neither cowed nor defiant. It was as though nothing had happened at all. 

He did not know what it said about mortals, that some of the most dangerous demons he knew were part human. Sabine's mother had practiced dark magic in the underworld, and could strip the soul off someone with a touch of her hand. But her father had worked in a rundown restaurant in New York, an overweight middleclass nothing that hadn't even finished high school. 

It wasn't much of a legacy, but he worried more about Sabine than he did demons that had lived for centuries before he was born. He knew she could not be trusted, but she made herself too useful to kill. 

"Very well. Speak," he allowed. 

"We lost another witch to Perry," she reported calmly. "One of your probes caught her and transmitted, but somehow he got there first. He had Bianca with him. They killed about eight guards between them, probably would have lost more if they hadn't been more concerned with getting the witch to safety." 

"You're certain it was him?" Wyatt asked. 

"Bianca was with him," she said again. "It's as certain as it can be." 

Wyatt had been surprised to learn just how deeply Bianca had become involved with the Resistance. Whatever else she had been, he had truly believed she had loved his brother. Something about her working with his brother's killer had never sat right with him, but as rarely as Perry and Bianca were seen, they were only ever seen together. There was no denying their connection. 

"Send Andrew to investigate," he said after a moment. "I still want them brought to me alive if possible. I have…questions." 

"With all due respect, my lord," Sabine said, "Andrew is an idiot. He hasn't been within a hundred feet of Bianca since you first gave him the assignment. I really think that I—" 

"No one has been within a hundred feet of her, or Perry," Wyatt snarled, his eyes sparking to life as he glared over at her. "You all come to me with stories of sightings as though I should be grateful, but I _want them dead_. Andrew can fail just as well as anyone else, and Perry is not my priority at the moment." 

Sabine stared at him, her eyes widening slightly. "But," she started, and her halting speech was uncharacteristic. It wasn't often she was caught by surprise. "Sire, we have not been this close to them in over a year. If you would give me leave, I could—" 

Wyatt waved a hand, signaling her to stop. Sabine obediently closed her mouth, and Wyatt regarded her carefully, trying to decide whether or not to take her into his confidence. It was a gamble, but he needed someone competent to arrange this for him. He was going to have his hands full for the next few days.

"I need to find my aunts," he said finally. 

"We are of course still searching for the Charmed Ones," Sabine began. 

"It isn't enough," Wyatt said, abruptly pushing up from his throne. He crossed the room to a long table placed against the wall. There was an ancient scroll rolled up at one end, small black marks spotting the outside of it, dried blood so old it looked like ink. "You've worked with me long enough, Sabine. What's the most important thing to me?" 

"Power," Sabine answered without hesitation. 

Wyatt turned narrowed eyes on her. "After that." 

"Your brother," she said. 

Wyatt looked away, acknowledging it as the right answer. "There's something I've been searching for these last years. It's why I have not been able to put all my focus into finding Perry and my aunts, and had to leave it to my incompetent staff." He paused, tapping his fingers across the scroll. "But this was more important." 

He untied the scroll, and pushed it open. The paper spilled across the table, coming to a sudden stop at the other edge and lying flat. "Do you know what this is?" 

Sabine watched the scroll warily, her feet staying in place, unwilling to get closer. 

"Yes, my lord," she answered. 

"It is a Resurrection rite," Wyatt told her, anyway. "It can bring back anyone, or anything. Some say it was created by the Devil himself. Personally, I think it was the original Source. I don't really care either way, so long as it works." 

Sabine was not as sensitive to magic as Wyatt, but she could feel the power coming off that scroll from where she stood. She kept her eyes on it, untrusting, and fought with herself not to step away the way anyone sane would. 

"Forgive me for my ignorance, my lord," she said gently, her voice affectedly diffident, "but wouldn't that ritual be looking for Christopher in the wrong place? Your brother may have assisted you and done some questionable things, but intention is key, and he often tried to help others—do you really think he ended up in Hell?" 

"It doesn't matter where he ended up," Wyatt assured her. "This will bring him back where he belongs." 

Sabine frowned. "But it requires a demon sacrifice, as a way to restore the balance, and—" she broke off, guessing his intention. "—and you don't plan to use a demon for the sacrifice, do you?" 

"This particular case just happened to be the resurrection of a demon," Wyatt explained, glancing sideways at her. "You take it all too literally, Sabine, you have to think outside the boundaries of the words. It doesn't require a demon sacrifice, it requires an _equal_ sacrifice." 

"That's why you want your aunts found," she realized. 

"Yes," Wyatt agreed. "I want them both if possible, but either one will do. I don't really care which one. They got my brother killed. It seems only fitting they should be the ones to bring him back." 

"They have worked strong magic to hide themselves," Sabine ventured carefully. "Sire, if you have not been able to get past it, no one can." 

"The thing about my aunts, is that they don't think they're different than anyone else," Wyatt said, glancing back down at the scroll. "They think they're just the same as the mortals. My guess is that they're hiding in plain sight. They may have blocked me by magical means, but that is not the only way we have to find them." 

He carefully re-spun the scroll. "I want the probes tripled, and I want a reward issued for any information leading to their capture. I want this entire world against them. Someone knows them. Someone will talk." 

"I'll take care of it right away," Sabine said. 

"Sabine?" Wyatt called. 

She froze halfway to the door, turning warily. "Yes, sire?" 

"You have two days to bring me something I can use to find them," he said. 

Wyatt didn't bother with threats of what would happen if she didn't, and Sabine knew better than to ask. She turned back around and walked from the room. 

Wyatt returned his attention to the scroll. Perry would die for what he had done to his brother, that was certain. He did not know if his aunts had orchestrated it, and he supposed, in the long run, what part they might have had in his brother's death did not matter now. 

Their betrayal didn't surprise him, really, it almost didn't even hurt. It was to be expected. His aunts had broken so many promises, over the years. 

But Wyatt Halliwell intended to keep all of his. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"I don't trust her," Bianca said. 

Chris nodded, lifting her hand to thread their fingers together, and trace his thumb along the edge of her ring. "That's because we can't trust her," he said. 

"I could vanquish her," she offered hopefully. "Problem solved." 

Chris laughed lightly, shaking his head as he dropped her hand. Bianca was just about the only thing left in this world that kept him going. He never would have guessed when he met her all those years ago, that they would end up like this. 

She kept him alive after he escaped from Wyatt, kept him hidden when he was still too distraught and regretful to do it himself. They ended up at the Resistance headquarters eventually, once it was safe, and it was there that they had learned to depend on each other for everything. 

There was no one Chris trusted to watch his back more than Bianca. 

"We need her," he said. "She's in Wyatt's inner circle." 

"Exactly my point," Bianca insisted. 

He looked at her in exasperation, and she just glanced back up at him, feigning innocence. He wasn't quite sure when their flirting wars and bickering became the sort of love that meant he didn't know how to live without her, but life was too short to question it. 

"We used to be in Wyatt's inner circle," he reminded her. 

"Yes, but we didn't _volunteer_ ," she said. 

"I hope the happy couple isn't fighting on account of little ole' me." 

Chris glanced up sharply, to see the smirking demon had appeared right in front of them. It wasn't like him or Bianca to be caught off guard, and Chris was grateful he'd already glamoured himself. He was wearing the same glamour Bianca had used the day she broke into Wyatt's palace. He was his own decoy, these days. Bianca refused to glamour herself: her argument was that Wyatt couldn't actually want her more dead than he already did. 

"Sabine," Bianca greeted coolly. 

Sabine smiled at them serenely. She was wearing a sleeveless purple sundress and matching flip-flops, though the weather was freezing. She had an umbrella resting on one shoulder, to protect the blonde curls falling around her face in large, elegant spirals from the drizzling rain. She didn't look anything like a demon, but that was the point. 

"I don't know why you insist on meeting up here. I much prefer the Underworld," she told them, her mouth twisting with distaste as she glanced behind them. "All it ever does up here nowadays is rains." 

"Wyatt has the Underworld too well guarded," Chris said with a shake of his head. "But he doesn't keep as many demons up here, he lets the mortals at least think they've still got the world to themselves." 

"Uh huh," Sabine said, unconvinced. "What about the probes? He just ordered them tripled in number, you know. They don't concern you at all?" 

"No," Chris said simply.

Sabine frowned at him, and noticed the way the probes were glancing off the ally entrance like they were ricocheting off an invisible wall. Suddenly his subtle hand movements made sense: it wasn't a nervous tick, he was turning the probes away. 

"Neat trick," she said with a smirk. 

"If you don't start saying something useful," Bianca drawled wryly, "I'm going to send you back to your precious Underworld in pieces." 

"So violent," Sabine tsked, twirling her umbrella. "I bring news of Wyatt's plans. You've actually been downgraded to the second most wanted slot, so congratulations on that." She turned to watch them, glee dancing in her eyes. "He's trying to get his brother back." 

For a moment Chris's façade faltered, as he feared that _she knew_ , but Bianca smoothly stepped up beside him to pick up the slack. "His brother's dead," she said. "Even Wyatt Halliwell can't resurrect the dead. Since he destroyed the Elders and slammed shut the only door out of the afterlife, he can't even summon him back." 

"Lord Wyatt doesn't understand impossible things," Sabine answered with a shrug. "To him that just means it's gonna be a challenge." 

"Still," Bianca said disbelievingly. "He can't bring him back." 

"He's found ancient, dark blood magic that can," she said. "It requires a ritual, but he needs a lot of sacrificial blood to pull it off, and it works best if you've got the original body instead of a conjured one." She glanced back at Chris. "Which is why he's still looking for you. You know, aside from just wanting to have you drawn and quartered." 

She watched him appraisingly as he just stared back at her calmly, looking unconcerned. "Whatever _did_ you do with Christopher Halliwell's body, anyway?" 

"That's not your concern," Chris said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You said he needs sacrificial blood." 

"Yes," Sabine said. "Something like this requires a blood sacrifice. Christopher Halliwell was a powerful witch, he'll need a powerful witch, and blood connections work best." 

"He's going after the Charmed Ones," Chris realized in horror. 

Sabine's eyes narrowed in on him instantly, maliciously pleased at finally getting a reaction out of the ever-elusive Perry. "Yes," she agreed. "It's going to take more than one Halliwell to raise the dead, and his options have been severely limited these last few years." 

"They would never help him," Chris denied instantly.

"Pretty sure he's not planning to ask nice," Sabine told him. "Nothing in the texts say they've got to be willing, and with dark magic, it usually works better when they're not. The sacrifice isn't meant to survive, in any case. That's why they're called a sacrifice." 

"So he's planning to kill them?" he demanded. 

"He was always planning to kill them. Now he's going to _sacrifice_ them. Well, one of them, anyway," she said. "He said he didn't care which, but I'm pretty sure he has his heart set on Paige Mitchell." 

Bianca discreetly reached out to grab Chris's hand, pulling him back as his worry started to seep through the glamour. "He hasn't been able to find them before now, what's changed?" she asked. 

"He's been focusing most of his effort on you," Sabine said. "But he always intended you should lead him to them. He blames them for his brother's death, thinks it was on their say so. But he wanted you first because he wanted to be certain. Now he doesn't care whether or not it's certain." 

"It's been almost three years and Wyatt's good at multitasking," Chris said, glancing back at her. "If he could get to them, he would have done it by now. He doesn't have a way to find them." 

"No," she admitted. "But he will. They can't hide from him forever, and he's motivated. You need to find them first. If he can't find them, he can't bring Christopher Halliwell back from the dead."

"You're worried," Bianca said, narrowing her eyes at Sabine. "I don't think I've ever seen you worried." 

"Then that should worry you," Sabine said crisply. "This kind of magic…it's dangerous, and even Wyatt might not be able to control it. If he gets the Charmed Ones, and he brings his brother back, there's no telling what the consequences might be. You must find them, and kill them first."

"We aren't killing the Charmed Ones," Chris snapped. 

"You can't protect them," Sabine insisted. "He will find them. It's only a matter of when." 

"They are off limits," he insisted, breaking free of Bianca's restraining grip to meet Sabine's eyes head on. "You so much as touch them, and I'll—" 

"It's my job to find them, not kill them, _that_ would be Wyatt, so you take your anger up with him," she said coolly. "As for me, if I do find them, I will take them to Wyatt as I was ordered to do. So find them first." She pursed her lips, watching him with thinly veiled suspicion. "Why are you so concerned about the Charmed Ones, anyway?" 

"The sisters are the reason I formed this resistance," Chris said vaguely. "They're heroes." 

"A Halliwell groupie, huh?" she asked. "You didn't seem too concerned about their legacy when you were gutting Christopher Halliwell." 

"He was on Wyatt's side," Chris said. 

"He wasn't as much on Wyatt's side as he let people think," Sabine said, studying Chris carefully. 

Chris fought back the urge to fidget. He'd often felt a sick suspicion that Sabine knew, or at least suspected, who he really was, but always discounted the idea. Sabine was out for herself—and returning Wyatt Halliwell's brother to him would be a lure even she wouldn't be able to resist. She'd switch sides in a second.

"Sounds like you knew him," Chris said. 

"No," Sabine said. "Wyatt wouldn't let me near him. He was afraid my power might have worked on young Christopher, and I don't think he trusted me not to try it." 

"Well, no one ever accused Wyatt of being stupid," Bianca snapped. 

"If you have a problem with me, Bianca, please share with the class," Sabine said sweetly. 

"I want to know why you're helping us," she demanded. 

"I wasn't lying, this ritual could change the world in ways even Wyatt doesn't understand," she said. "Demons are resurrected all the time, but demons, they're not really alive in the first place, they don't have souls the way mortals and witches do. Displacing a soul… _stealing_ one, it's powerful magic, and it's going to come with a high cost. He's going to bring the foundations of this world down all around us, and he doesn't care." 

"That's today's reason, maybe," Bianca said. "But it doesn't explain everything." 

Sabine glanced away from her. "I'm merely…creating opportunities, but I make no promises of loyalty," she said. "I will always choose the winning side, and I don't pretend otherwise. I'm only going to help you so long as it helps me."

"But how is it helping you?" Chris asked. 

"It's keeping our Lord Wyatt busy," Sabine said smoothly, "so that I have free reign to do as I wish. Until a few years ago, he had everything under such tight control. I don't think I ever really did thank you for what you did to Christopher. It's made everything such fun again." 

"You—" Bianca snarled, rushing forward. This time it was Chris that had to hold her back, and he grabbed her around the waist, gently tugging her against him. 

"What? I'm a demon," she reminded them casually. "Chaos is kind of my thing. But I'm not here for Wyatt, and I won't ever tell him about my meetings with you, because he'd kill me. And I don't exactly have a psychopathic, weirdly overprotective older brother of my own to raise me from the dead if I get myself killed." 

"He could have been the one to send you," Bianca insisted stubbornly. 

"If he'd sent me, you'd be dead," Sabine said. "We've been working together almost two years now. Your continued suspicion is starting to bore me." 

"Can you blame us? You've killed more of our people than anyone," Chris said. "Even Wyatt." 

"Yes," she agreed, turning her eyes towards his. "And if you're ever stupid enough to get yourself caught, I'll kill you, too. I still have to keep my day job. You worry about yours." 

Sabine disappeared suddenly, in her strange, there one moment, gone the next way. No orbs or shimmering, she was just gone. She left her umbrella behind, and it crashed to the pavement, rolling in circles as it spun in the wind. 

"I don't like this," Bianca said instantly. "She's playing us against each other." 

"We already knew that," he said, reaching out to grab her hand. "But she hasn't lied to us yet. And if Wyatt's really planning to—well, we have to stop him."

Chris quickly orbed them back to his office at their Resistance base, and dropped his glamour. Bianca picked up the conversation right where they'd left off the moment they reformed. "What will even happen if he does this spell for someone that's not dead?" 

"Best case scenario? It just doesn't work," he said, and then he sighed. "But to be honest, that's probably not the likeliest outcome. It could drag my soul to the conjured body, or since my current state is the opposite of the intended, it could reverse it—" 

"Meaning it could kill you," she broke in worriedly. 

"Well, yeah, it could send my soul to the other side," Chris admitted. "There's really no way to be sure what it will do, our best bet is not to risk it, especially since it will kill my aunts for sure. We can't let him get his hands on them. We have to find them first." 

"Chris, not to…" she started slowly.

"It's okay, I know what you're going to say," he said wryly. "If Wyatt can't find them, how will I?" 

"He would have already tried everything," Bianca reminded him. "And if it didn't work for him, it's not going to work for us. They must have done something to cloak themselves, something strong enough even Wyatt hasn't been able to break it." 

"I know, but there's one advantage I have that he doesn't," Chris said, glancing back at her. "They're not looking for Wyatt, but they are looking for me. I don't have to find them. I just have to let them find me." 

"That's risky," Bianca warned. "You send up a flare to draw them in and the Charmed Ones won't be the only ones coming for you. Wyatt wants Perry dead almost as he much as he wants you alive."

"Yeah, but there's a way to send the message that he might not get," he explained. "Paige is half-whitelighter, too. She's still blocking me and Wyatt, but Daniel…" He paused. "He's a full whitelighter, and she doesn't know to block him." 

"There's not supposed to be any whitelighters left. If he calls for her, she'll think it's a trap," she pointed out. 

"She will," Chris agreed, unconcerned. "But that won't stop her." 

"What if Wyatt intercepts it?" Bianca asked. 

Chris shook his head. "I was his last connection to his whitelighter side, and Paige is blocking him out. I don't think he'll hear it, and we have to try." 

"If this goes wrong, he could end up with all of you at once," she said, reaching out to grab his arm, pulling him around to face her. "It's too dangerous, Chris." 

"There's only two alternatives, as far as I can figure," he said. "One, I give myself up to Wyatt so he doesn't have a reason to do the ritual in the first place. Two, we sit around and wait until he finds my aunts, which he will, and then I give myself up to Wyatt to try and save them. So. You know. Not the best choices." 

Bianca furrowed her brow, looking away as she thought over their admittedly limited choices. "You really think they'll come?" 

"Yes," Chris said without hesitation. "They want to join up. They have for years. I thought we'd all be safer apart, but maybe…maybe I was wrong. My magic has only been blocking Wyatt because he doesn't know where to look, or who to look for. They're somehow managing to block him out when he's doing his best to find them. If they have a way to do that, then we need them. And they need us."

"Alright," Bianca said. "But we need a place to meet. Somewhere neutral. Are you…are you going to go as yourself, or Perry?" 

He pursed his lips together grimly. "I haven't decided yet," he said. "And we can meet at one of the empty safe houses. The one in Strasbourg should work. Wyatt doesn't have much presence there, and France isn't set up with probes yet."

"You don't have to go," she offered gently. "I've glamoured myself as Perry before, I can do it again. You don't have to see them." 

"Yes I do," Chris said wearily, before glancing up at the ceiling. "Daniel? Got a second?" 

Daniel formed in front of him a moment later, and hopped up to sit on Chris's desk. "Always got a minute for you, Perry," he said, flashing a grin. "What do you need?" 

"I want you to send a message to my aunt," he said. 

Daniel went suddenly pale, his grin slipping away. "You want me to jingle a Charmed One?" he asked, looking disbelieving. "I thought you didn't want them to have anything to do with this?" 

"I didn't. I don't," Chris said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "But they've been a part of it since before I was born, so it's not like I had much chance of keeping them out." 

"What…what should I say?" Daniel asked nervously. 

Chris glanced back at him, his expression turning resolute. "Tell her Perry wants a meeting." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt sat at his desk, sorting through all the information he had managed to collect on both his brother and the Resistance. He had replayed the moments of his brother's death so many times that it seemed to have engraved itself on his mind. He kept wondering what he might have done differently, how he could have stopped Perry, or how he could have kept Chris from becoming involved with the Resistance in the first place.

If he hadn't been in that cell, determined to escape, he would have been where he was supposed to be—where Wyatt could have protected him, the way he always had before. 

The day his brother died, Wyatt had Sabine borrow a psychic's power to tell him what Chris might have kept in that warded room of his. She had received only one vision: Perry, sending his brother to the floor with a right hook, but she had drawn from memory sketches of all four walls and what he'd kept there, and there were potions and books, athames and symbols drawn onto to the stones in blood. 

Wyatt had needed to accept that it was a base of operations, not just some place for Chris to get away. Wyatt was not as blind to his brother as his guards often believed, and he knew very well the things Chris was likely to get up to. He'd caught him trying to bring food to the witch-hunters once, of all things. He had caught him hiding rogue witches from him and orbing children away to who knew where before they could be enlisted to his cause. 

So he knew that his brother was not fully behind his way of thinking, but he never suspected he might be working against him. Working _around_ him, certainly, but not _against_ him. 

He knew now that Chris had obviously been making a concentrated effort to circumvent him, in the name of protecting those he thought innocent. He had contacts in Perry's resistance, and it seemed likely that contact had gone both ways. Though if he had been helping them, why would they have had him killed?

No matter how he tried to get the pieces to fit together, they never formed a complete picture. He knew he was still missing a piece to the puzzle. 

Once he had his brother back, he would need to find out the depth of his betrayal. He didn't want to bring his brother back just to make him his prisoner, but he would if he had to. If he had to start from scratch, he would. He would do whatever it took to bring his brother around. If this worked and he got him back, he was going to make sure he was never going to lose him again. 

He could hear Chris's voice in the back of his mind, wry and playful: _They say it's lonely at the top._

Wyatt didn't need anyone. He was sure he could do this on his own, he still had everything in control. The mortals were less than happy with him at the moment, distraught over the changes in their world, but they feared him more than ever. For all that Perry's Resistance was growing, the only ones brave enough to join were the ones that Wyatt had already marked for death. 

So he knew he could do this alone. He just didn't want to. 

His brother had been his last connection to being a Halliwell, to being a _person_ , and not just a King. 

A hurried knock at his door brought him out of his thoughts, and Wyatt sighed. "Enter," he called. 

Sabine stepped inside the office, as well dressed as always. She was wearing a black skirt with a matching blazer, and a white dress shirt that had its entire left side soaked in blood. 

"Looks like you've been busy," he said, glancing back down at the sketches on his desk. "Have you found my aunts yet?" 

"No," she said, pausing deliberately. "But I may have found you a way into the Resistance." 

Wyatt froze, his blood beginning to boil at the mere thought of Perry. He pushed away from the desk. "I'll be right there," he told her, and she disappeared. He sensed her appear again in the dungeons, as he knew she would.

She'd caught someone valuable, and it was all beginning to come together. It wouldn't be long now, and Wyatt would have everything. 

Because Wyatt may not need Chris, but he wanted him—he wanted his brother back, more than he wanted anything else, with the possible exception of the power that ran through both of their veins. 

_They say it's lonely at the top._

"That's what I keep you around for," Wyatt whispered back, and then he shimmered out. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"Daniel?" Chris asked anxiously. 

"Still nothing," Daniel said. "Just like it was nothing when you asked me thirty seconds ago, and the minute before that, and—" 

"I get it," Chris snapped. "I thought for sure she'd take the bait." 

"She didn't seem happy with me, she tossed me out almost before I could finish my invitation," Daniel winced. "I've still got a headache. Didn't know a half-whitelighter could even do something like that."

"Wyatt could," Chris said, nervous energy nearly overflowing as he reached up to bite at a nail. "Paige must have learned, in case she ever needed to go up against him." 

"Anyway, you're dead," Bianca said, watching Daniel skeptically. "How can you have a headache?" 

Daniel frowned at her. "Things are different. It's not like it was before. I'm alone down here, and completely cut off, I can't—" he broke off. "I'm not as strong as I used to be." 

"It's okay," Chris said, leaning back against the wall with a sigh. "I appreciate you trying." 

He shrugged apologetically and started for the door. "I'll let you know if I hear from her," he promised. "Oh—and have you seen Gracie? She's dropped off my radar." 

Chris pushed up on the wall. "No," he said, his eyes going distant for a moment. "I can't sense her either. I think she was leading a raid, trying to get supplies. She's probably cloaking herself." 

"Yeah, I guess," Daniel said. "But let me know if you see her, okay?" 

Chris nodded and Daniel slipped from the room, closing the door behind him. "Damn it," Chris snapped, the moment the whiteligher was gone. "I thought for sure she would come." 

"I'm sorry, Chris," Bianca said. "But maybe she's just trying to keep what's left of her family safe." 

Chris looked away at her words, but not before she saw the hurt flashing in his eyes, and Bianca winced at her mistake. "I didn't mean it like that. You know she has to have heard Christopher Halliwell was killed," she said gently. "She doesn't know you're here." 

"Not like she would have come for me anyway," he said. "I thought she'd come for Perry, at least. I thought—" He shook his head to clear it. "I guess we just have to hope they're hidden well enough that Wyatt won't ever find them." 

"I hate to agree with Sabine on anything," she stated reluctantly, "but Wyatt will find them. Maybe in a few days, maybe in a few years, but he will." 

"I know." He fell back against the wall, before allowing himself to slide down to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to have to go back, aren't I?" 

"Over my dead body," Bianca said levelly. 

He raised his head to meet her eyes. "He's going to be mad at me, no question about that, but I still don't think he would kill me," he said. "Not after all the trouble he's going to trying to get me back." 

"It's not going to happen," she repeated. "That doesn't solve the problem, Chris. That just gives us new problems." 

Chris's despair spun into anger almost effortlessly, and he pushed himself back to his feet. "You don't get it, do you?" he demanded. "This is all because of me! I did this." 

"Wyatt did this," she answered calmly, immovable against his anger. "Not you." 

"That's semantics," Chris said. "He did it for me." 

"Which makes him responsible, not you," she insisted. "You never asked for this. You did the best you could." 

"And it wasn't good enough," he said. "It never is." 

She stepped towards him, but he shook his head and pulled away. "I should have stayed," he decided. "I thought I could save us. It was stupid to believe that. Wyatt was always going to win, and at least if I'd stayed, I might be able to reign him in." 

"If you'd stayed, you'd still be his good little soldier," Bianca said, her fierce tone cutting straight through him. "How much better off do you imagine the world would be? People would still be dying, you'd just be helping them along instead of trying to stop it." 

"It doesn't mean I'm not responsible for what's happened since I left…I could have killed him, but I didn't, and now he's killing everyone else," Chris said quietly. "You said it yourself, once, remember? That if I didn't stop him I was just as responsible, and I knew you were right, I believed it, but I don't think I ever really understood just what it meant. I think I still thought I was a good person." 

"You are a good person," she said. "And you were right, not me." 

He looked at her skeptically. "You want Wyatt dead more than anyone." 

"Yes, I want him dead," she agreed. "I've never made a secret of that. But it doesn't mean you're not right. Even if we set aside our personal feelings, killing Wyatt isn't going to save this world. He's broken it so much, there's no one powerful enough left to fix it except for him." 

"Yeah," Chris said. "But I'm sort of losing hope that he's ever going to. He's not just going to get better, and everything I do, every move I make, just makes things worse." 

"I didn't think you were the type to give up," she said. 

"Who said anything about giving up?" he asked, grinning faintly. "I'm just trying to figure out if there's anything I can do that won't get even more people killed." 

"And you think surrendering to Wyatt will do that?" she asked. "You think if he finds out where you've been, he's not going to hunt down and kill every last one of us, even if he can't quite manage killing you?" 

"I just know I have to do something," he told her. "Because what we're doing obviously isn't working." 

"You'll think of something," she said, utterly confident. They might not ever get ahead in their war against Wyatt, but Chris had managed to do what no one else ever had: he had leveled the playing field. He had given them a fighting chance. 

"Do you hear that?" Chris asked suddenly, his eyes snapping towards the door. "Something's—" He broke off with a muted shout, reaching up to press the palms of his hands against his forehead. 

Bianca reached out and grabbed him, trying to hold him up, and tugging at his wrists so she could meet his eyes. "Chris?" she asked urgently. "Chris, what's wrong?" 

"The wards," he gasped, allowing Bianca to pull his hands away from his face. He looked pale, but his eyes were focusing again. "Someone unauthorized just passed through them." 

"And it didn't stop them?" she demanded. 

Chris shook his head. "No, they're already inside," he said. "But there's something, familiar about it—like my wards recognized them, and let them through." 

Bianca went pale. "Wyatt," she said. 

Chris didn't answer right away. "I set the wards up to allow only good magic in," he said finally. 

Bianca shook her head. "Not exactly, you've modified it through the years, remember?" she asked. "We've got a few fighters with dark powers, to say nothing of me." She watched him carefully. "And Wyatt still has good magic, whatever he's chosen to do with it. Could it have let him in?" 

"He's not supposed to know enough to get this close—" Chris protested. 

"Could he get in?" Bianca demanded sharply. 

"Yes," Chris said. "Maybe. I don't know! If he knew we were here, and he recognized the wards, then yes, he could find a way around them. He's Wyatt." 

"You have to start evacuating," Bianca ordered, reaching out to grab her favorite athame from Chris's desk. It disappeared into her sleeve, to wait until she needed it. "I'll check the perimeter." 

"I'm coming with you," he insisted. 

She shook her head. "You and Daniel can get the most people out in the shortest amount of time, you know the escape plan," she said. "You need to get everyone to the back-up location." 

"I have a bad feeling about this," Chris said. "I don't want you out there alone." 

"If it's Wyatt, I'll shimmer out and meet you at the back-up," Bianca promised, leaning up to kiss him quickly. "If it's not Wyatt, well, you know I can take care of myself." 

"Bianca—!" Chris protested as she took off. She didn't turn back, because she trusted him not to follow. Chris would do what he needed to, whatever his feelings on the matter were. She knew he understood his priority had to be getting everyone else out. 

Her priority was making sure he had the time to do it. 

She made her way outside on foot, since she didn't know what she might find on the other side of the doors. She slipped out the back of the gymnasium, and was grateful for once for the darkened sky. She was easily able to meld into the shadows of the building, disappearing into them as she crept along its edge. 

She scanned the wards with her eyes. They were not exactly visible, but Bianca could make out the slight disturbance in the air because she knew just where to look. From the other side, this school would like ruins, but from the inside the wards looked just a bit like tempered glass. They appeared undisturbed, and holding. 

But Wyatt was dangerous enough he might have walked straight through them without leaving a trace. 

She heard faint voices and pulled to a silent stop at the corner of the building. She pressed her back up against the wall, and leaned out slowly, to glance back around the other side. 

There were three figures standing at the other edge of the building. They didn't have any weapons that she could see, but then, if they were who they appeared to be, they didn't need them. 

She pulled back, pushing herself up against the wall out of sight. "Chris," she called quietly. 

He appeared beside her a moment later, looking anxious. "Bianca?" he asked. "What happened? Are you alright?" 

"It's not Wyatt," she told him.

Chris's expression relaxed into relief. "Thank god," he said. "We've got almost everyone out but—" 

Bianca reached out and covered his mouth, nodding towards the corner of the building. He pulled her hand away with a frown, before leaning over her to look down along the side of the building. He went stark white and jerked back, pushing up along the wall beside Bianca. 

"Shit," he snapped. 

"Not exactly the reaction I was expecting," Bianca whispered. "Isn't this a good thing?" 

Chris roughly ran his hands through his hair. "No wonder the wards let them through," he said quietly, his tone going anxious again. He sounded almost as concerned as he had when he thought it might be Wyatt. 

"It's your aunts, Chris," Bianca said gently. "This is what we wanted, remember?" 

"Yeah, but how am I supposed to face them?" he whispered. "I didn't get a chance to—I'm not ready." 

"Alright, stay here," she decided. "I'll go introduce myself, try to figure out why they're here, and how they found us." She looked at him in concern. "You just figure out how you're going to introduce yourself." 

"Right," he nodded, pressing his eyes shut for a moment as he tried to decide what to do. Who to be. He'd given Christopher Halliwell up for dead a long time ago, but he'd never really stopped being _Chris_. 

Bianca pushed out from behind the wall, watching the three figures with distrust. The Charmed Ones had aged well, which was actually fairly surprising, considering they'd spent so many years on the run. 

Phoebe was still classically beautiful, without a single grey hair, and wrinkles that only seemed to make her look her stronger: a little wiser around the eyes, and laugh lines, miraculously, instead of creases leading to a frown. 

Paige did have a few streaks of white in her hair, but very few wrinkles at all. Her face was determined and almost unlined, fierce and set in stone. She looked like a warrior, and Bianca shook off the urge to reach for her knife.

The third figure she only knew from stories Chris had told her: Henry Mitchell. He had aged just as well as the women, all the little signs of his age only serving to make him appear distinguished, though she noticed he didn't move as quickly or as assuredly as Paige or Phoebe. She recalled then that he was mortal, with no powers of his own. 

She wrote him off as not being an immediate threat to her, and focused on the other two instead, figuring out a number of ways to incapacitate them and keep Chris out of their line of fire if it came to that. 

She had not forgotten that Paige had thrown an athame straight at Chris. He had forgiven her for that, but Bianca had not. 

They all looked up at the same time and saw her, the Charmed Ones taking up defensive positions around the mortal. Bianca just stared back at them impassively as she came to a stop in front of them. 

"This isn't where we asked to meet," she said finally. 

Paige looked down at her, her expression haughty and unconcerned, and Bianca could see Wyatt there. Wyatt so rarely reminded her of the Halliwells, but apparently he'd received his arrogance from them, at least. 

"We didn't exactly think we could trust you. We wanted to check you out first, make sure Wyatt and his demons weren't laying in wait," Paige said. "So I found a way to locate your Whitelighter and come to you instead." 

"You could have brought our wards down," Bianca said tightly. "You could have exposed us all." 

"We were careful," Phoebe assured her quickly. 

Bianca glanced her way. Phoebe was smiling hesitantly, looking hopeful and sad at the same time. From the stories, she'd always thought Chris took more after Paige, but there was a vulnerability to Phoebe that reminded her entirely of Chris. 

"Look, it doesn't matter how we got here," Paige said evenly, tilting her head back. "We came to meet Perry." 

"Then you're in luck."

Paige looked past Bianca at the sound of the voice, and a figure appeared from the shadows of the building, looking non-descript in a faded green hoodie and white sneakers with jeans. 

"Perry?" Phoebe asked hopefully. "We've been looking for you for a very long time." 

"Yes, I know." He walked fully into the light and pulled back his hood. "But never in the right place." 

Phoebe gasped as she realized it was her nephew standing in front of them, and Paige went deathly pale, reaching out to grab her sister's arm. 

"Hi, Phoebe, Henry," Chris said, before his eyes locked with his other aunt. "Paige." 

Bianca fell back to stand beside him, and he gratefully reached out to discreetly take hold of her hand. 

"Welcome to the Resistance," he said.

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Paige couldn't breathe. 

She could feel Phoebe's frantic grip on her arm, Henry's comforting hand on her back, but it was all so far away—she couldn’t really see anything past her nephew's wary green gaze. 

They had learned of Chris's death two years earlier. They had been in the Underworld, collecting ingredients for protection potions, when a demon had casually mentioned the fortuitous death of Christopher Halliwell. He had been happy to recount for them, in great detail, how Perry had sliced the boy open with a cursed athame just days after his eighteenth birthday. 

It had been such a strange thing to listen to: it had been like that demon was talking about some other Christopher Halliwell. 

It wasn't that the remaining good Halliwells had not expected something like this to happen, because they had. Paige had even almost killed Chris herself, though the moment still haunted her dreams and she had wished many times to take it back. They had long been expecting to hear Piper's boys had been killed, that all that magic they had wielded had finally turned against them. 

Paige and Phoebe had been devastated, of course, at the young life cut so short, but they had gone on without much ceremony. They had given up Chris years before his death, so they did not exactly have to grieve. They had grieved already for their clever little nephew, for his innocence. They had grieved for years. 

But Lord Christopher was dead, and there was nothing they could do about that. They had to focus on the children they could still save. 

Which was why she couldn't breathe, now that he was standing right in front of her, so very alive. He was still the very image of his mother, and the way he was standing, the way he held his jaw, it reminded her so much of the Piper she had first met—the Piper that had been so lost in anger over the death of Prue that the only thing she remembered how to do was fight. 

"Chris?" Phoebe asked, her voice caught somewhere between hope and disbelief. "What…what is this? You…you're working for Perry now?" 

Paige watched Chris carefully. He kept pulling his eyes away, like he couldn't bear to look at them. She remembered him kneeling in front of her, on the other side of the cell Wyatt had put her in, begging her to blame Perry for the prisoner's escape.

_Don't bother trying to take credit for this with me_ , he'd told her. _I know Perry doesn't have anything to do with you._

Oh god, she thought, no. He couldn't be. He couldn't be, because that would mean— 

"Phoebe, I think he is Perry," Henry said gently, from behind them. He was watching Chris shrewdly, having arrived to the same conclusions that Paige was trying so hard to avoid. 

Chris glanced up at that, looking at his uncle. Henry had always been quick at putting the pieces together. He'd been one of the first to realize something was wrong with Wyatt, too, the day his brother had come home from taking the world. 

"That's not possible," Paige denied instantly, even as everything started to fall into place. She tried not to notice Chris's flinch. "Perry's been around almost since the beginning, and Chris—"

"And Chris has been fighting against Wyatt since the moment he joined him," Bianca snapped, glancing at Paige scornfully, no longer able to keep quiet. "He just did it a lot smarter than anyone else was doing it, which is why he wasn't ever caught." 

"Bianca," Chris warned quietly, squeezing her hand before letting it go. He stepped forward, and Paige stepped back, dragging Phoebe with her. He paused, masking his hurt with a shake of his head before looking up to meet Phoebe's eyes. "I didn't kill Prue," he told her. "If you don't believe anything else, please, just…believe that." 

Phoebe rushed forward, and Bianca tensed, prepared to fight—but all the older woman did was throw her arms around Chris. Phoebe was a powerful empath, so even if she hadn't believed the words, she couldn't deny the truth. She could feel all of his love and guilt and determination, and she knew he wasn't what they'd thought. That he wasn't like Wyatt, after all. 

"I never should have doubted you," Phoebe whispered, pressing her eyes shut as she tightened her grip. "Prue never did." 

Chris stood awkwardly in her embrace, his hands hanging at his sides, uncertain how to respond. He hadn't really had a proper hug since before he was sixteen years old—he shared a lot of things with Bianca, but they weren't really the hug type. Not hugs like the kind his mother and Phoebe always used to give him, like she was giving him now. 

He glanced at Bianca for help, but she just shrugged helplessly. She wasn't any better at hugs than him. 

"Um," Chris started awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely disentangle himself just as Phoebe's voice hitched into a sob. 

She finally pulled back then, though she kept hold of his arms, her eyes searching his. "Prue always said you only went with Wyatt because you knew you were the only one that could hold him back." 

"Yeah, that was sort of the grand plan," Chris said wryly, gently stepping back, out of Phoebe's hold. "Only I wasn't as good at it as I thought I'd be." 

"You're the one that released those prisoners," Paige said, her voice sounding hollow and flat. She should be happy, she realized distantly. Even if she disregarded the fact that this meant they had one of their family back, and not just from the dead, but back on the right side—this also meant they'd just gained a very powerful ally in a dangerous war. 

She should be ecstatic. She should be like Phoebe, and reaching out to hug him. Except she really just felt disoriented, and strangely terrified. Because if Chris was the hero…then what the hell did that make her? 

"I had help, but yeah," Chris said after a moment. "Sorry you got blamed for it. I would have confessed, but—well, it was brought to my attention that Wyatt might not actually have believed me, considering where he'd found you." 

"But you saved them," Paige said, feeling something loosen inside her, as something else started to tighten around her heart. History was rewriting itself in her mind, and she didn't know whether or not to be grateful or heartbroken. 

"I just did what I could. It wasn't much," Chris said, then looked down at the ground with a sigh. "I know this is a lot to take in. I know you probably don't know what to—" 

"You were coming to save us," Paige continued, as though Chris hadn't spoken. "The day Prue died. You were there because you were trying to help." 

_And I almost killed you_ , she didn't say. 

Phoebe finally seemed to be understanding that as wonderful as this revelation was, things might be just a bit too broken to fix, and had gone dangerously pale as she remembered just how that day had ended. 

"Paige," Henry said softly, and she didn't know if he was trying to comfort her, or warn her to keep her from saying something she'd regret, from doing something else she couldn't take back. 

Paige and Henry had always been closest to Chris. He was their favorite nephew, even though they weren't supposed to have favorites. It was sort of an unspoken truth. Wyatt had never seemed to mind it. He'd always been happier off on his own. 

But Chris, he had always been around. Reading over her shoulder. Asking to learn her newest potion. Slipping into Henry's office and reading parole files when he shouldn't. It was why his betrayal had always hurt so much more than Wyatt's. 

Paige felt her heart get a kick-start, and she gasped as she finally started taking in air. Chris had been protecting them, all along, and the last of her denials started to slip away. The truth was she had her suspicions that Chris was not as far gone as Wyatt long before this, but she had still never suspected _this_.

"Maybe we should head inside," Bianca suggested gently, warily watching the wards surrounding them. "We can—" 

"You were there to help. Weren't you?" Paige demanded, ignoring Bianca, her eyes locked on Chris, determined to have an answer.

"Yes," Chris answered softly, and he sounded so young she thought her heart would break all over again. 

Paige probably would have collapsed if Henry hadn't been behind her, propping her up, because that was admission she had both longed for and feared. That was the truth she had been worrying over for years. She would still dream of it, of finding Chris leaning over Prue, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of that bloody athame, tugging it back out. 

She had been so certain, in that moment, and then Wyatt had arrived, and Chris had pulled him away, and that certainty had fled, because—

"Your orbs were white," Paige whispered. 

Chris glanced at her, furrowing his brow. "What?" 

"It always bothered me," she explained, stepping closer, away from Henry's comforting support. This time it was Chris who stumbled back from her, looking wary. "When you orbed Wyatt away, before he could kill us, your orbs were white. If you'd murdered an innocent, they should have been black." 

Paige glanced up at him, tears forming in her eyes, though she did not let them fall. "I couldn't understand why they were still white, but I don't think I wanted to. I wanted so much to be mad at you, because the only other option was that I'd almost killed you when you didn't deserve it." She broke away from his gaze, blinking over at the wall. "So I kept telling myself that maybe because the Elders were gone, the old rules of magic didn't apply. …but the truth is, I knew. I knew the moment you orbed away what I'd nearly done." 

"I know what it looked like, and you did what you thought you had to. I forgave that a long time ago," Chris said simply, "and none of that matters now. We have bigger problems." 

"Yes, we do," Bianca agreed, not liking being in the open, even behind the powerful wards. "So we should go inside. Chris?" 

"Right, follow me," Chris said, reaching out to snag Bianca's hand and tug her along behind him towards the doors. He pushed inside the gymnasium, his family warily following along behind him. 

Daniel rushed up to him right away. "Perry! Where the hell did you go, we've still got—" he broke off, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the Charmed Ones. "Oh. Never mind. Carry on." 

"You're the Whitelighter," Paige said. 

"And you're the one that judo-kicked me out of your head," Daniel said. "Thanks for the migraine, hadn't had one since I've been dead." Then he winced. "Sorry. That was rude. I've been living with Perry for years, I'm afraid he's rubbed off on me. I'm actually really nice. Well, I used to be. I mean, I died and became an angel, so obviously I did something right." 

"Daniel," Chris said warningly. 

"Right. I'm just gonna go," he said, before glancing at Chris. "You think it's safe to start bringing everyone back?" 

Chris nodded. "And find Gracie," he called, as Daniel disappeared in a wash of orbs. 

Paige fidgeted as the gazes of the remaining Resistance members all turned their way. They were being watched with a strange mixture of awe and fear, and it wasn't what Paige was used to. 

Then again, she hadn't really been around other good witches since the end of the world. It had been safer for everyone involved to just avoid them. 

"They look like they hate us," Phoebe muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. "And the fear—I think I'm gonna be sick." 

"You've done a lot of good for the world, but you also had a part in creating Wyatt," Bianca told them, her tone unsympathetic. She ran her eyes over Paige, assessing her coolly. "Halliwells aren't exactly considered heroes, these days." 

"They're not looking at you like that," Henry said knowingly, looking over at Chris. 

"Well, I’m not exactly a Halliwell," Chris answered, without meeting their eyes. "Not anymore."

"Because to them you're just Perry," Phoebe said, watching him closely. "Where did you come up with that, anyway?" 

"Ps are for protection in our family, right?" he asked, leading the way further into the room. "I figured I could use all the help I could get. Perry means wanderer, traveler. Stranger. And when I named myself, I was lost." Chris glanced over at his aunts. "I've been Perry just as much as Chris since Wyatt took over." 

Henry's eyes lit up, and he gave his nephew a faint grin. "So basically, you've been a double-agent," he said. 

"Well, sort of, but not anymore," Chris said, glancing back distractedly. "Wyatt thinks I'm dead, so I'm hardly much use as an inside man at the moment." 

"Why _does_ Wyatt think you're dead?" Phoebe asked. "And come to think of it—the rumors were that Perry killed you. How does that work? How did you…kill yourself?" 

Chris shrugged, pushing his way into his office, with his family following close behind. "I couldn't stay there any longer, I promised Prue," he said. "And Wyatt would never have let me walk away, so Bianca and I staged my death." 

"Prue," Phoebe whispered. "You spoke to her, you—" 

"Yes," he said shortly. "I tried—I was too late. But I spoke to her. She wasn't alone." 

Phoebe seemed to take some comfort in that, at least. Chris wished he could tell her more, but there wasn't much good to say about the way his cousin had died in his arms. 

"How are the rest of the kids?" he forced himself to ask, afraid what the answer might be. 

"Henry Jr. and Parker are safe," Phoebe told him. "They're with Coop." 

He knew what that meant—what she hadn't said. Henry Jr. and Parker were safe, which meant Paige's twins weren't. Chris shored up his heart against the knowledge, and didn't allow his expression to change at all. There were only four of them left, then. He didn't ask how the twins had died. He didn't want to know, because Wyatt was probably to blame. 

"We took them to—" Phoebe started. 

"Don't tell me where they are," Chris broke in quickly. "It's safer for them if I don't know." 

Phoebe seemed startled, but nodded. She had been an empath long enough she had learned to block people's emotions out, but with family it was always harder, and Chris's emotions were strong. It was like a storm being held back by a thin veil. It seemed ridiculous, standing there now, to think she had ever believed he could have joined with Wyatt. 

"You really never believed in him, did you?" she asked quietly. 

"No, but I knew he would never listen to reason," Chris says. "I had to make a split-second decision. I could side with you and we'd all get cast out, or I could play the long game and try to help him change from the inside." 

"You were sixteen," Paige said, her voice still simmering with restrained anger. "You should have let us handle it." 

Beside Chris, Bianca tensed, her eyes narrowing. She clenched her hands to fists, but didn't speak. 

"You couldn't have done what had to be done," he said, utterly certain. "You couldn't have sat there beside him and watch what he'd become and still pretend." 

"And how could you?" she demanded, though the anger seemed to have left her voice, leaving only desperation. 

"Because I didn't have any other choice," Chris said, pointing abruptly back towards the gymnasium. "Those are people that I've freed from Wyatt's dungeons, or convinced him to spare. Maybe it would have been more honorable to stand up to Wyatt from the beginning and tell him exactly what I thought of his master plan, but if I had I'd probably be dead. And so would they. So you can go ahead and criticize my methods as much as you like, I won't ever regret them." 

He sighed, tearing his eyes away from his devastated family. He didn't want to make things even worse, but he knew there was no making this better. "Wyatt is too powerful to take head on," he continued, his voice softer. "If he sees you coming, he takes you out. Simple as that. We're not exempt from that, he'd kill any of us just as easily."

"Not any of us. Not you," Phoebe said softly. "I don't think he could kill you. I felt him, that day when Paige—well, just trust me on this. I don't think he could." 

Chris bit his lip. "Maybe not," he agreed. "But there are plenty of worse things he could do to me. I've seen them done. I know better than anyone what he's capable of."

Paige didn't need Phoebe's power to sense Chris's lingering resentment, and she narrowed her eyes. "You say you've forgiven me, forgiven all of us, and god knows, Chris, you're obviously a talented liar," she said. "But do you really expect me to believe that?" 

"Paige," Henry said gently, reaching out to try and pull her back. She stepped out of his reach, pushing forward angrily, and Bianca straightened tensely beside Chris. 

"Not another step," the assassin warned. 

Paige stopped, glancing at her in irritation, and Chris just sighed. "What do you want me to say?" he asked her. "I knew what I was doing when I left. I knew exactly how much it would cost me." 

"Did you really?" Paige asked. "Did you ever think about what it would cost the rest of us?" 

Chris let out a broken laugh, before glancing away. "I think maybe the real question here, Paige, is whether or not you've forgiven me." 

"I'm not sure," Paige said hesitantly. "I do know that I'll never forgive myself." 

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "I probably won't forgive myself, either. So we can agree on that, at least."

Paige started to take another step, and Bianca shimmered from her place beside Chris, appearing directly in front of the younger Charmed One. She had an athame in her hand, held level with her chest, ready to strike. 

"Take one more step," she said calmly. "Go ahead. Try it." 

"Bianca," Chris sighed, rubbing at his forehead, looking put-out. He reacted as though Bianca was just being mildly rude, rather than threatening to kill his aunt, and Paige tried not to take too much offense at his unconcern. 

The truth was, Chris wasn't worried because he knew Bianca would never hurt Paige, not when that would hurt him. His aunts, however, did not know that, and this wasn't exactly the best first impression for his wife-to-be to be making.

Paige glanced angrily up at Chris. "You want to call off the guard dog, maybe?" 

"She's my fiancé, actually," he said, his eyes flashing in anger. "And she doesn't answer to me." 

Paige looked at Bianca in surprise. "You're engaged to a demon?" she demanded. 

"She's not a demon, she's a Phoenix," Chris corrected, stepping up beside her, and gently lowering her hand. He only managed it because Bianca reluctantly let him. "Good and Evil may not be non-existent as Wyatt believes, but they're certainly not as clear cut as the Elders would have liked us to think. Because there are good witches on Wyatt's side and demons on mine." 

He bit his lip, tapping a foot impatiently. "Look, we have enough problems without fighting with each other," he said. "We're all on the same side. We need each other, so we might as well try to get along. I meant it when I said I forgive you, so let's just move on." 

"If you really don't blame us, then why…why haven't you tried to contact us before now?" Phoebe asked. "Surely you must have known we were trying to find Perry. I mean. You. We were trying to find you." 

"Yes," Chris admitted. "But you were safer if you didn't." 

"Then why come to us now?" Paige asked shrewdly. 

"Because you're not safe anywhere anymore," Chris said bluntly. "Wyatt's putting his full attention into finding you, and whatever you've done, however you've managed to block him until now, he will find a way past it. He will find you." 

"What's happened?" Phoebe asked with a frown. 

"He's trying to raise the dead," Bianca said simply. "He plans to use your blood to do it." 

"Oh," Phoebe said faintly. "So not good then." 

"He's trying to bring you back," Paige said, her eyes on Chris. "Isn't he?" 

"Yes," Chris admitted. "But I won't let it get that far." 

"Your aunts are in danger either way," Bianca said. "He wants them dead. That doesn't have anything do with you." 

"She's right," Paige said. "This isn't your fault." 

"Yeah, well, it's not that simple," Chris said. "Whatever you think of it, the back-up plan has to be that I surrender to Wyatt." 

The whole room started protesting at once, and Chris winced. He wasn't used to having people worry about him other than Bianca, and she only worried about the big stuff—most of the time, she trusted him to take care of himself. 

"You can't do that," Paige snapped. "Not again." 

"He's planning to perform a resurrection ritual that could, potentially, tear this world apart even more," Chris said. "If I can stop that, I don't have a choice. None of us do. Obviously, that's not Plan A, because I don't exactly want to spend the rest of my life in his dungeon. But it's on the table. No use pretending that it's not." 

Bianca glared, but didn't protest again. "That's why you're here," she told them. "Keeping you out of Wyatt's hands, that's Plan A." 

"That's a good plan," Phoebe agreed wholeheartedly. "I say we go with that plan." 

"That's kind of been our plan from day one," Paige said. 

"Right, I know, but—" Chris started, before breaking off with a frown. "Daniel's calling. I have to go." 

He looked back at his family, looking both reluctant and relieved for his excuse to leave. "I'll be back as soon as I can, and you can stay if you want. I hope you do, because I think we need to start working together. But you're free to leave, and go back to wherever you've been hiding, if you think that's safest. I mean, obviously you're free to leave. You're not prisoners. I wouldn't—" Chris broke off, taking in a shaking breath, unused to not having words come to him easily. "Anyway, Bianca can show you out, if that's what you want." 

He quickly orbed away, leaving Bianca with his family. She would be mad about that later, but for now, she didn't dispute his offer of her help. 

"Well?" Bianca asked them curtly. "What will it be?" 

"I think it goes without saying that we're staying," Paige snapped. 

"It doesn't, actually," Bianca said, glancing her way. "Your support is not exactly what you're known for where Chris is concerned." 

"If you have something you want to say…" Paige started, stepping forward. Henry reached out to grab her arm, tugging her back. 

"Oh, there's plenty I'd like to say," Bianca said, her eyes flashing. "You should be grateful I know how to keep my mouth shut." 

"If you're worried it'll upset Chris, we'll keep it just between us," Paige said, breaking free of Henry's hold. "Say what you want. After all, we're practically family, right?" 

"Alright," Bianca said, turning to face her. "You want to know what I think? I think you're hypocrites. The great Halliwell line, the Charmed witches, and you're nothing but cowards. Too scared to go up against Wyatt, too scared to save anyone else for fear of making it worse, so what, exactly, is it that you've accomplished these last few years? Aside from saving yourselves, I mean." 

"We were trying to save our children," Paige snarled. "Not ourselves." 

"I don't blame you for that. You should have run. You'd be dead if you hadn't," she said simply. "But you don't get to stand there and judge him." 

"You don't understand what it was like for us," Paige started. 

"Do you understand what it was like for him?" Bianca asked, stepping forward angrily. "Imagine being sixteen years old, trapped in the Underworld by someone you love. Watching them torture people right in front of you, and then being forced to sit down to dinner," she said, her sharp tone causing Paige to wince. "That's what Wyatt did to Chris. You think he had it easy? You think he took the easy way out? He's stronger than the rest of you put together." 

"You want to know the worst part?" Bianca continued. "All this time, he's been trying so hard to save you, all of you, no matter what it might cost him. And not once—not once, in all these years—did you ever try to save him." 

"We're going to save him now," Phoebe said, her protest sounding weak even to her. 

"You're a few years too late," Bianca said flatly. "Chris loves you. I don't know why, but he does. But then, Chris also loves Wyatt, so I have serious reservations about his judge of character." She watched them angrily, her energy coiled up inside of her like a spring. "I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you hurt him again, I'll destroy you." 

"We never meant to hurt him," Phoebe insisted. "We thought he was the one hurting us." 

Bianca glanced at her, softening somewhat. She knew that was why Chris forgave them: _you can't get mad when your plan works_ , he'd told her once, his tone wry and full of bravado. But she knew how much it hurt. 

"I should go check on Chris," she said, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get away from them. She wanted to blame them for everything, because that was easy to do, but if they had ever actually come to try and save Chris, things might have ended up so much worse. Everyone had their part to play, and Chris had been the one to cast the roles. "Call for Chris or Daniel if you need anything." 

She shimmered out abruptly, leaving the confused, devastated family on their own. Henry ran a hand down his face, before spotting a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's on the desk, and migrating towards it. "Oh thank god," he said. "I need a drink." 

"Is Chris even old enough to drink?" Phoebe asked in concern, and then winced, realizing she'd stopped keeping track of his age. 

"He won't be twenty-one for three more weeks," Paige said quietly. 

"And he's already engaged," Phoebe sighed. "To a Phoenix. She looked too old for him, don't you think? I mean, where do you even meet an assassin witch? Well, I guess, living with Wyatt—" 

"I think you're focusing on the wrong things here, Phoebe," Henry interrupted wryly. " _Chris is Perry_. I think that should be the priority topic of any conversation, don't you agree?" 

"Right," Phoebe sighed, dropping down into a chair. "It's like the world's gone all topsy turvy. Nothing's what I thought it was. I mean, all these years, how could we not know?" 

"How could _Wyatt_ not know?" Henry asked. "Forget that he fooled us, he's been fooling Wyatt since the start." 

"Wyatt's always had a blind spot for Chris," Paige said. "I thought it went both ways. That's why I never questioned—" She broke off, looking away, blinking back tears. "I don't care what he says. He won't ever forgive us. How could he?" 

"That doesn't mean we stop trying," Henry said. "Not trying is what got us into this mess in the first place." 

"Try, try, and try again," Paige whispered, stepping up to the small office window, looking out at the warded, shimmering horizon. "Even if it kills you."

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

"She doesn't look like much," Wyatt commented, already bored. He walked around the shackled prisoner, glancing at her with disinterest. "Who is she?" 

"Grace Morgan," Sabine answered slyly, sidestepping Wyatt as he paced around them. 

"You say that like I should be impressed," he said. "I've never heard of her." 

"No, I don't suppose many people have. She's managed to stay almost completely off the radar since you took over." Sabine paused, for dramatic effect. "She's one of Perry's closest allies, been with him almost since the beginning, since before Bianca, even. If anyone can tell you about Perry, it's her." 

Wyatt straightened at this information, glancing back at Sabine in renewed interest. "How did you find her?" 

"I wish I could take the credit," Sabine said with a falsely modest shrug, "but mostly it was chance. She got spotted by your probes, we went to pick her up. She put up quite the fight." Sabine looked down at her blood stained clothes mournfully. "And this was my favorite blouse, too." 

"What's her power?" Wyatt asked curiously, his attention still on Sabine. He had barely glanced at Grace. 

"She can freeze someone with a touch," Sabine said. 

He looked up in surprise. "That's a Charmed power." 

"Sorry, she doesn't freeze them, she literally _freezes them_ ," Sabine clarified. "She turns them to ice. It's rather impressive, actually. She killed fourteen guards before they managed to take her down and I could bind her powers." 

"Such a waste," Wyatt said. 

"You know me better." Sabine grinned, reaching out and touching the wall beside them. Ice crawled out from her finger, spreading quickly to cover the whole wall. "I won't let it go to waste." 

Wyatt just watched her warily. "You can't possess more than power at a time," he reminded her. "You'll give it up the next power you find." 

"Still, it'll be fun while it lasts," she said with a shrug. 

Wyatt turned back towards the prisoner, and finally gave her his full attention. She looked to be about thirty, her strawberry blonde hair strewn with lank, struggling curls. He supposed she might have been considered pretty once, but the war had not been kind. 

Her bones pressed tight against her skin and there were dark circles underneath the eye that wasn't swelling shut. She had a scar half across her left cheek, disappearing behind the ear. He recognized a touch of magic about it, something he suspected even a whitelighter had not been able to heal, because he knew the Resistance had at least one. 

There was a time he might have felt pity for her—that he might have knelt in front of her and kindly offered a way out, a way to join him and redeem herself. 

But she had helped take his brother from him, and that would not be forgiven. The most he was willing to offer her was banishment. 

Wyatt leaned into her line of sight, reluctantly admiring her poise. She'd been beaten badly, but somehow had managed to keep her head held up. He could see in her eyes that she was a fighter. It was too bad she'd chosen the wrong side to fight on. 

"Let me explain how things are going to go, Grace," Wyatt began. 

"She prefers Gracie," a voice called. 

Wyatt and Grace both glanced up, Wyatt with a grin, and Grace in fear. A boy, who couldn't have been much older than sixteen, was standing at the back wall of the dungeon with his arms casually crossed. He had dirty blond hair, cut so close it almost looked shaved, and strange, amber colored eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the cell. 

Sabine even seemed wary of him, keeping her eyes carefully straight ahead, though she did not seem surprised by his entrance. 

"That's Alec," Wyatt explained, his voice bizarrely cordial, as though he were introducing someone at a party. He smiled back at Grace. "But more on him in a minute. Let's talk about you. You prefer Gracie, then? Such a pretty name. You don't want to die, do you, Gracie?" 

"No," Grace said, her voice sounding as though it were as bruised as the rest of her. "But we don't always get what we want." 

Wyatt watched her carefully, frowning suddenly. "You've been my prisoner before," he said after a moment. "You were one of the prisoners that escaped with Perry." 

Grace stared back at him blankly, and said nothing in response. 

"I never forget a face," Wyatt explained. "I remember you now. You were marked for recruitment." 

"I was never going to work for you," she said. "Just like I'm not going to help you now. I know I'm not getting out of here alive, there's nothing you can do to make me talk." 

"It doesn't have to go that way," Wyatt said. "There is a way out for you. A very simple way. You just have to tell me where Perry is, and I let you walk out of here. I won't ever let anyone bother you again. You'll have amnesty." 

"That's never going to happen," Grace said, letting out a broken, hollow laugh. 

His hand snapped out, twisting in her hair, dragging her towards him. "You doubt my word?" he asked, deadly calm. 

"I have no doubt _you_ would do it," Grace said. "But I never will." 

"You haven't guessed yet, then, what Alec is?" Wyatt asked nonchalantly. "I just recently found him. He only came into his powers a few months ago, but he's a fast learner." 

Alec grinned at her, his mad eyes digging into her so fiercely she had to catch her breath. She tried to pull away from Wyatt to get away from Alec's piercing gaze, but he would not lesson his hold. "Do you know what his power is? It's very rare. Almost unheard of for a witch." Wyatt smoothed Grace's bangs back out of her eyes, and his gentle touch was sinister. "He's a telepath." 

"He's reading you now," Wyatt went on. "He can read surface thoughts from almost forty yards away. But it's a bit more…invasive, when he needs to know something someone doesn't want known. I've heard it's very painful. I don't think you want to go through that." 

"You see, I win, either way," Wyatt explained, as Grace tugged futilely at his hold, looking anywhere but at Alec. "But you don't have to lose."

"I've already lost," Grace gasped. 

"The hard way it is," Wyatt decided, releasing his hold. "Alec, find out where Perry is." 

Alec uncrossed his arms, stepping forward with a smirk. "If she fights me, I can't promise she'll stay sane," he warned. 

"Her mental health is not a priority," Wyatt snapped. "Just find out what I want to know." 

Alec dropped down in front of Grace, examining her closely. He reached out and framed her face with his small hands, his thumbs pressing in at the corners of her eyes. "Where is Perry?" he asked. 

Images started snapping through her mind, rushing into his, but they were distorted, and the name seemed to have no meaning there. It rushed from one scene to the next, everything in darkness, slipping away. Alec didn't know when it happened, but suddenly he was screaming and falling away from her, collapsing onto the cold floor. 

He pushed himself back up, and he could hear Grace laughing breathlessly behind him. 

"What the hell was that?" Wyatt demanded, roughly grabbing Alec's arm to drag him back to his feet. 

"It's some kind of block," Alec said, glancing back at the prisoner in surprise, and something like admiration. "I can't get past it. She won't tell us who Perry is, because she _can't_." 

Wyatt reached over and grabbed the witch's hair, dragging her head back to examine her eyes. "Is that true?" 

She laughed again, blood slipping out to spot her lips. "I know him," she said. "But I'll never tell. Do what you want. I can't ever tell." 

"It's a spell," Wyatt decided, watching her carefully. "Willingly cast, and powerful. That's how they've been doing it. All of his followers have been bewitched so they can't give him away." 

Wyatt's eyes narrowed as he watched Grace, twisting his fingers to grip her more tightly as he tried to understand the magic wound so tightly through her mind. "But how far does it spread? How much does it protect? Something this strong, it had to be specific. You couldn't risk it being too vague, or it wouldn't work. So maybe you can't tell me where Perry is—but I'm guessing there's still plenty you can tell me."

Gracie went pale, jerking in Wyatt's grasp, a futile move to try and get away. Alec grinned as he caught on, and dropped back to his knees, reaching out again to place his hands back on the witch's temples. 

Usually Wyatt would ask: _where is Perry_ , always to receive no answer. This enchantment was obviously tied deeply to Perry, meant to protect him, protect who he was, _where_ he was. He just needed to ask something more general, and make a guess as to where Perry might be himself. 

"Where is the Resistance headquarters?" Wyatt asked gently. 

Grace screamed as Alec's powers began to tear through her mind, digging in to rip the answer from her—she tried to resist, but it wasn't long before he found it, and dragged it right out of her. 

"They're in Minnesota…Farmington," Alec made a look of a slight distaste. "In a high school." 

"Clever," Wyatt said dryly. "Certainly one of the last places I'd think to look." 

Grace had gone alarmingly pale, still half-heartedly fighting against Alec's hold. Wyatt glanced down at her. "You should have taken my offer," he said. "Now you're going to end up dead like all your friends. Not as quickly, as of course." 

"You…won't win…" Grace said, letting out a sharp, strange breath that might have been another attempt at a laugh. "I still know something…you don't." 

"And what's that?" Wyatt asked, leaning forward. 

"I know who Perry really is," she said. 

"That's very nice for you, but thanks to your assistance, I know something far more important," Wyatt said, turning away from her. "I know where to find him." 

He started towards the door, and Sabine stepped after him. "I'll come with you," she said quickly.

Wyatt held out a dismissive hand, the force of his motion pulling Sabine to an uncoordinated stop. "No," he snapped, glancing back at her. "This is personal. I go alone." 

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If Perry is there—" she started. 

"I'm counting on him being there, and I plan to be the one to find him. I've trusted this search to others long enough. You stay here with Alec and see if you can get anything else out of her," he said. He glanced back at Grace briefly, before turning to march from the room. "Have him search her mind until there's nothing left." 

Sabine watched Wyatt leave, pursing her lips, before turning back to Alec. "See if you can find out who Perry is." 

"But the block—" Alec started. 

"Are you powerful, or are you not?" she snapped. 

Alec bristled at the insult, and turned back to Grace, closing his eyes. "Who is Perry," he asked. 

Sabine sighed impatiently, sure that Alec would not be able to get past the blocks. It was strong magic, and she had been aware of it for some time. This was an exercise in futility, and she would much rather be with Wyatt running interference for Perry. She would hate for him to be caught this early in the game, she still had such plans for him. 

Alec let out a startled gasp, pushing away from Grace with wide eyes. He turned to look at Sabine in disbelief, his heart beating far too fast. 

"What, did you see something?" Sabine asked, incredulous that he could have gotten past the block. She had been certain he wouldn't be able to. She had been near Perry, and knew just how strong his magic was.

Alec's strange eyes traveled up and met hers, and that's when she knew. He hadn't been reading Grace, he'd been reading her. He'd asked the question: _who is Perry_ , and his mind had latched onto hers, because she was thinking of the answer herself.

"It's…you…" he started, trying to push himself to his feet to get away from her. "You're working with him. You're working with Perry." 

"Oh, Alec," Sabine sighed. "Didn't I warn you about reading my mind?" 

He started to run and Sabine disappeared with an exasperated roll of her eyes, reappearing in front of him and catching hold of his throat with her hand. She pulled him against her, moving one hand to the top of his head, and then twisted, soundly snapping his neck. 

She released her hold and he fell limply to the ground at her feet. 

"You killed him," Grace said in surprise, tugging at the chains as she looked up at Sabine with wide eyes. "You're…you must be Perry's informant." She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank god you're here, we have to warn Perry—" 

"I'm afraid you've entirely misread the situation," Sabine told her politely, stepping back towards her. "I'm not saving you. I'm setting you up." 

"What—" Grace started in confusion.

"Alec is Wyatt's newest toy, he won't be happy he's dead," she explained. "So I'm afraid I'm going to have to blame that on you." 

Sabine placed a hand on Grace's cheek, and let the witch's own power flow out, freezing her blood. Grace's eyes glassed over as her skin turned blue, before it blackened and cracked. 

"It really is such a shame," Sabine said, reaching out to run a hand gently across Grace's reddish curls. "We might have been allies, if you had been just a little faster." 

Sabine turned, straightening her jacket as she started for the door, her heels echoing along the stone floor as she left without looking back. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Paige got impatient waiting for Chris to come back after about ten minutes, and pushed out of the office door purposefully. Henry and Phoebe followed warily behind her, feeling out of place at the Resistance. Phoebe wouldn't say anything about it out loud, but she had sort of been expecting a hero's welcome. 

For all that Perry had been avoiding their offers of help for years, it had for some reason never actually occurred to her that they might not be wanted. 

This was very much Chris's world—or rather, _Perry's_ —and she wasn't sure how much they belonged in it. Bianca had been right about one thing, they had been too scared to fight, though not because they worried for their own lives. They had risked their lives for years, and two of her sisters had given theirs, just as they would have given their own…but they had children to protect. 

They had made them the priority, and consoled themselves with the fact that anyone in any sort of contact with them would have just been put in even more danger. It was something they had said so often over the years, it had become a deeply ingrained belief. 

They had tried, of course. They had tried to find Perry, and they had tried to find a way to bind Wyatt's powers. They had searched for spell after spell to try and return to them the Book of Shadows, to call upon the powers, to summon their lost sisters. They had tried everything. 

Everything but reaching out to Chris. 

She wondered how differently things might have gone, if they had believed her daughter. Prue had been so certain Chris was playing Wyatt, arranging things to get the rest of the family safely forgotten and somewhere out of the way. She had argued it brilliantly, and convincingly, but they had never been willing to believe it. 

If they had made contact with Chris, and he told Wyatt… 

So they never tried. They did everything, tried everything, but the one thing that might have actually saved them all. 

"They love him," Phoebe whispered, as she glanced around at the resistance members. "They'd die for him. I can feel it." 

"He could have literally ruled the world, and he chose to stand with them instead," Henry said. "That's the kind of thing that earns you some respect." 

Chris glanced over at them, sensing their presence. He looked away again just as quickly, and Phoebe didn't know what to make of his ambivalence. She wasn't sure she entirely agreed with the way Paige had pushed him, but where was the reaction? Why _wasn't_ he angry? 

He had every right to hate them, but that was the one emotion she couldn't find inside of him. He was a swirling mass of guilt and regret and resolve, and beneath that there was love, closely guarded and hidden—but she could find no hate. Not for them, and not even for Wyatt. 

"Come on," Paige said, tugging Phoebe along towards the center of the room. Chris was stood leaning over a table with a large map spread across it. It was a layout of the entire world, with red and blue dots flickering across its surface. 

"When was the last time she was seen?" Chris was asking the man beside him. 

The man was probably around forty, with short spiked hair and about two-days worth of beard. He looked like someone she might have seen on the street one day, or run into at a grocery store. He didn't look like he should be part of the last line of defense for the entire world. "Six hours ago." 

"And we're sure—" Chris started. 

"Her whole team was dead, Perry," the man said. "We both know she never would have left them willingly." 

"What's going on?" Paige demanded, as they came to a stop at the other side of the table. 

Chris glanced over at her warily, but the man with him just threw them a reserved grin. "You really are here," he said. "Wow. It's an honor to meet you. I'm Marc." 

"I can get you their autographs later, we need to focus right now," Chris said, shooting Marc an irritated glance. "Six hours is a long time. We need to narrow it down. If Wyatt has her, we need to know how long he's had her." 

Marc let out a breath. "Perry, I hate to say it—" 

"Then don't say it," Chris said. "Just give me an estimate." 

"At least three hours, but even if—" Marc started. "This is Gracie. He won't get anything out of her." 

"If he knows who he has, he won't stop until she talks," Chris insisted. "And Grace knows everything. None of the outposts are safe anymore." 

"Okay, enough," Paige snapped, slapping a hand down on the map. "What is going on?" 

Chris reluctantly turned back in her direction, but wouldn't meet her eyes. He kept them on his map. "One of our leaders is missing," he said. "Chances are that Wyatt has her." 

"Right," she said, nodding as she took a deep breath. "So what's the rescue plan?" 

"There is no rescue plan," he told her, finally looking up. "If Wyatt has her, she's already as good as dead." 

"We don't leave people behind," Paige insisted. 

"That's a nice sentiment," Chris said, resting his hands on the surface of the table, leaning forward to hold her gaze. "Here we have a different philosophy. If we get caught, we don't actually want our friends coming after us just so we can all die together." 

"If she knows as much as you say, then won't she tell Wyatt who you are?" Phoebe asked hesitantly, trying to break the tension and get them focused again. 

"She can't," Bianca said, stepping up beside her. 

Phoebe jumped back in surprise, pressing back up against Henry in her haste to move away from the assassin. Bianca just flashed her a sweet grin. "You really think we'd leave something like that to chance?" 

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked warily. 

"Everyone here knows who Chris is," Bianca said. "Most of them, he rescued straight from Wyatt's clutches, so it's not like he could hide it. But no one has slipped up in six years, not once. How did you think they managed that?" 

"It's a spell," Chris told them, with a sigh. "They recite it when they join the resistance so they can't speak a word about Perry or who I am, even under torture. And before you say anything, it wasn't my idea, and I don't enforce it." 

"Okay," Phoebe said slowly. "So then she can't talk, even if—" she broke off, apparently unwilling to think of what Wyatt would do to her, "—even if she wanted to. That's good, right?"

"We keep everything need to know here," Chris said. "We don't tell everyone about the locations of anyone else, or their missions, to reduce the damage in case anyone is caught. But there are necessary exceptions. There are certain people that have to coordinate everything." 

"Gracie is one of them," Marc finished for him. "She knows as much as Perry and Bianca—and Wyatt won't stop until he breaks her." 

"She knows where everything is, so Wyatt might, too," Bianca summarized. "What are we going to do?" 

"There are a few places I've started setting up she wouldn't know about," Chris said. "But they aren't ready yet for long-term habitation and we don't have enough space for everyone." 

"So you're just going to run?" Paige asked. "And leave your friend to Wyatt?"

Chris looked up to glare at his aunt, and Phoebe didn't know whether or not she should be relieved that he was finally showing some anger—on the one hand, it wasn't great that it was directed at them, but on the other, it was the healthiest emotion she'd felt from him since they arrived. 

"Do you really think I don't want to save her?" he asked tightly. "I would do _anything_ , but I can't save her. Even if I walked straight up to Wyatt and begged him, it couldn't save her. If I managed to break in, and get her out, it wouldn't save her. There's nothing that can save her, or I promise you, I would be out there trying it." 

"But how can you know that, if we don't even try?" Paige asked. "You're not alone anymore, Chris, we can help. It's time all of us stopped running." 

"You want to stay and fight?" Bianca asked, her voice falsely calm. "After you've been hiding, for years, now you want to make a stand?" 

"Bianca," Chris broke in. "Just leave it." 

"I think it's time they know what it is they're up against," Bianca told him. "You've been protecting them long enough." 

"What does that mean?" Paige snapped. "You think we've been living in a bubble? My daughters are dead!" 

"And I'm sorry about that, I really am," Bianca said. "But I'm not talking about that right now, I'm talking about Wyatt. How much of this do you think is him? And how much of it are you blaming on the demons he let loose?" 

"We have no illusions about Wyatt has become," Henry promised her. 

"Really? Because if that were true, you wouldn't wonder why we're not planning to rescue Grace, or stay here and fight—you would already know. You see, your precious nephew has already had her at least three hours," Bianca explained, her eyes burning into them. "The best case scenario here is that Gracie's already dead. I really hope, for her sake, that she is." 

She crossed her arms, watching them all mercilessly. "I've seen what Wyatt does to his prisoners. He's very inventive," she continued. "He likes to pull them apart, mostly. Piece by piece. It's like a game to him. A sort of reverse hangman, where you lose something every time you give an answer he doesn't like. He usually starts small so it'll last longer, maybe with just the fingernails, and then—" 

"Bianca, please stop," Chris pleaded softly. 

"They think we're selfish," she snapped, turning to look at him. "That we should be rushing in there to save our friend on a white horse, and you'd let them think it. But you can't protect them from this. From Wyatt. Not anymore." 

"We know what he's done," Paige insisted. "We aren't blind." 

"No, you aren't," Bianca said. "And you've been running for years, so you should understand. That's the only option left to us."

She stepped closer until she was just inches from Paige. "If Wyatt finds us, if he comes here for us, we can't stop him," she said, meeting their gazes unflinchingly. "Because _nothing_ can stop him." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

Daniel knew it was probably a lost cause, but that didn't mean he could just stop. He'd left the others to strategize and imagine worse case scenarios and had wandered outside to the edge of the wards, reaching out as far as he could, calling for Grace. 

He had retraced her steps earlier, but all he had found were the remains of the three other members of her team. They had been killed by energy balls, all of them broken open at the dead center of their chests, leaving them laid flat out on the ground with a hole where their hearts should have been. 

Daniel hadn't wanted to think what it meant that Grace wasn’t there. He didn't want to live in a world where the better option was that she had died with their friends. 

So he was clinging to the hope that maybe she'd run, that she might have gone into hiding to keep anyone from following her back to the base. Maybe she was just blocking him, and if he tried hard enough, he could find out where she was. 

He was so intently trying to find her that he almost didn't notice when she walked towards him straight through the wards. 

His eyes widened as he took a step towards her. "Gracie?" 

But even as the relief started to rush through him, he knew something was wrong, because he was still trying to sense her, and he still couldn't. 

Even though she was standing there right in front of him. 

"Gracie…" he started. "What happened? How did you—?" 

"It's okay," Grace said, but her voice was slightly off, rougher than usual. 

"But what happened?" he demanded, stepping towards her. "Grace, Perry thinks you've been caught—" 

"Shh," Grace said, reaching up to hold two fingers to his lips. "I said it's okay." 

Daniel's eyes strayed down, latching onto what Grace now held in other hand, though it had not been there just a moment before. "Gracie…" he started, stumbling away from her as he fought off a rising sense of dread. "Is that…is that Excalibur?" 

Grace smiled cruelly, and he knew then with absolute certainty it was not Grace. The Grace image spun the powerful sword carelessly in her hand. "Yes, it is," she said, before swiftly sliding it forward, and pushing it straight through his chest. 

Daniel choked, looking down at the sword in disbelief as it half disappeared inside of him. There weren't a lot of things that could kill a Whiteligher. A Darklighter's arrow. A Titan. The Elders themselves. 

Excalibur. 

"Sorry about that," Grace's voice said, and Daniel looked up just in time to see her image flicker out. The eyes changed first, from green to blue, and then Wyatt Halliwell was standing in her place. "But I can't exactly have you running around healing everyone, can I? Wouldn't really be fair, and I plan to end this once and for all." 

"Wyatt," Daniel whispered, just as Wyatt jerked the sword back out of him. Daniel stumbled as it slid out, before collapsing to his knees, his hands held to his chest. 

Wyatt glanced at him, frowning when Daniel remained up on his knees. A wound like that with Excalibur should have killed him by now, near instantly, but somehow he was still holding himself up. 

He realized his mistake just as he heard Daniel whisper, "Perry, run." There were protection spells around this place, and while it was nothing that could stop a wound made by Excalibur—even Magic School, in its heyday, could not have stopped an attack by Excalibur—it was just enough that the whitelighter was still able to stay conscious, stay alive, those few vital seconds he needed to warn the others. 

Wyatt's expression twisted angrily and he jammed Excalibur forcefully into Daniel again, nearly lifting him back up his feet with the power of the thrust. 

But it was too late to stop the whitelighter's last whispered words: 

"Wyatt's here." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

_Perry, run._

_Wyatt's here._

Wyatt. Wyatt's here. 

Chris felt himself go cold, and he turned and ran straight to the double doors at the other end of the gym. He fell against them gracelessly, pressing the palm of his right hand against the surface. The overhead lights started to crackle, the light bulbs exploding one after another with a small shower of sparks. Sigils lit up from their scattered positions on the double doors, before spreading out to the ones written all along the walls. It was only a moment, and the whole room was painted with an eerie glow from their whitish-blue light. 

"Chris?" Bianca demanded sharply, rushing after him, before pulling to a stop a few feet away from the door. 

"He's here," Chris said, running his eyes over the protections on the gym. "He's found us." 

"Oh god," she whispered.

Chris spun around, his eyes seeking his youngest aunt. "You have to get out of here, now," he ordered. "Take Phoebe and Henry and go back wherever you came from. Don't tell me where." 

Paige shook her head. "We aren't leaving you here. Not this time." 

"You don't have a choice," Chris insisted. "If he gets his hands on either of you, he's as good as got me. I can't fight him if he has you. You have to get out, and you have to hide, because that's the only thing that might save us." 

"He's right," Bianca said, looking back at them. "You're good at hiding, and this is not the time to stop." 

"No, we can't," Paige started, stepping forward. 

Phoebe reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging her back. "If we stay, we're just more leverage Wyatt can use against him," she said. 

"Fine," Paige said, before turning back to Chris. "But we all go." 

Chris shook his head. "I won't leave the others," he said, motioning to the Resistance members huddled along the back wall on the bleachers, "and these protections won't hold long enough to get them all out. I'm the only one that might stand a chance of holding Wyatt back long enough for them get away." 

"You're going to try and fight him?" Phoebe asked in disbelief. 

"I don't see that I have a choice," Chris said. "Now get out of here, while you still can." 

"We will find you again," Paige promised, as she reached out and grabbed Phoebe and Henry each with one hand, closing her eyes as she went to orb. 

Only nothing happened. 

Paige's eyes shot back open. "I can't orb," she said worriedly. "Those protections—" 

Chris shook his head, looking paler by the second. "No, these protections don't stop whitelighter power," he said, looking back towards the door. "It has to be Wyatt. He's blocking us." 

"Then we're trapped," Marc said worriedly. "It's over." 

"Like hell it is," Chris snarled, turning and rushing to his office. He pulled open the door, and stalked towards his desk, ripping open the drawers one after another until he found what he was looking for. He stilled for a moment as he found the necklace, and then carefully pulled it out of the drawer, wrapping the thin leather cord around his fingers and letting the stone rest at the palm of his hand. 

He started back towards the door, only to stop short when he saw Bianca was standing in the doorway, blocking the way out. 

"You really think they'll help us?" she asked quietly. "Because the way I remember it, they never have before." 

"Yeah, I know," he admitted. "But it's our only chance." 

"It's all coming apart, isn't it?" she said quietly. "We're nearing the end. The point of no return." 

Chris sighed, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. "I think you were right," he said. "We never should have called for my aunts. I've delivered them right to Wyatt." 

"Wyatt would have found us all anyway," she said, looking up at him. "We both know we've all been living on borrowed time." 

"Perry!" someone shouted. 

Chris frowned and rushed back into the gym with Bianca. Chris's heart sped up when he realized about half of the sigils were flickering out. He walked back across the room, coming to a stop in front of the doors. 

Even without the bond, Chris could still feel his brother's power coming from just beyond the doors. He stumbled back a step, and then turned violently around when he felt a hand on his arm. Paige held her hands up in surrender. "The protections are failing," she told him, unnecessarily. 

Chris watched her for a moment, an idea starting to form. "Do you remember that barrier you created the day Wyatt attacked you?" 

"Yes," Paige said. "But as I recall, he got through it without much trouble and brought the whole thing down." 

"Not right away," Chris told her. "From the time I called him, to the time he appeared, it was three, maybe four minutes. It'll at least buy us some more time." 

"My protections don't have an orb-out loophole," she said. "It'll trap us inside, too." 

"We're already trapped," he reminded her. "And I have an exit plan, if you can just hold him off a little longer." 

Paige nodded and Chris took off again, Phoebe racing after him. "What are you going to do?" she demanded. 

"Call in some reinforcements," he told her, as he unwound the necklace from around his hand. 

"He's calling on the Valkyries," Bianca explained for him.

Chris lifted the necklace, and held his finger over the stone. It wasn't like the necklaces that the Valkyries wore, and it could not summon a portal on its own, but it was a sort of distress call. There was nothing to do but wait to see if it would be answered.

"Oh," Phoebe said, looking worried. "That's…interesting." 

Bianca watched her knowingly. "You've met them." 

"Yeah, sort of," Phoebe said. "It wasn't actually under the best of circumstances. We were investigating some missing souls, and traced them back to Valhalla, and pretended to be Valkyries, and then they tried to kill us. We just barely managed to escape, and they pretty much banished us from Valhalla for all eternity." 

Chris frowned. "That is not how I remember that story." 

"We might have cleaned it up a bit," Phoebe said with a wince. "But they kind of hate us. How did you end up working with them?"

"We didn't exactly, they want to stay neutral," Chris said. "But we managed to get them to help out a few times with small things." 

"Really? Wow," Phoebe said. "They didn't seem super cooperative from what I remember, and they weren't much for dealing with, well, you know, men especially. How did you pull that off?" 

Chris opened his mouth to answer, but Bianca beat him to it. "One of them is in love with Chris," she said simply, giving a shrug. 

"She's not in love with me," Chris insisted, with the sort of exasperation that came from having the same argument more than once. 

"Uh, guys?" Paige shouted from the doors. She was holding her hands up, and they were glowing slightly as she fought to keep her barrier up. "If you're going to do something, now would be nice." 

"Right," Chris said, turning his gaze back ahead of him. "Come on, Mist. Answer." 

A swirling blue portal sprung to life in front of them, and a figure stepped out calmly, her head tilted up regally. She gave a little smirk when she saw Chris. "Perry," she said, before her eyes found the Charmed Ones and narrowed. "Why have you summoned me here?" 

"We're in a bit of trouble," Chris said. 

"Clearly," Mist said simply, as she took in the failing barriers. "But I do not see how that is any concern of the Valkyries." 

"Good to see you haven't changed," Phoebe muttered. 

Mist's eyes snapped to her in an instant. "You have," she said. "You're looking so…old." She smirked. "It suits you." 

"Mist, please," Chris broke in, moving to stand between the Valkyrie and his aunt. "I wouldn't have called you if we had any other choice. Wyatt's here." 

Her eyes sparked to life. "And you brought me here?" she demanded angrily. 

"We need a way out of this room," he explained. "He's blocked it by most magical means, but he could never stop the power of the Valkyries." 

"You flatter us," Mist said, stepping closer to him. "You know very well that he could, or we would not have gone to such lengths to avoid drawing his eye." 

"But he didn't, because you're here," he pointed out. "All I'm asking for is sanctuary." 

"Sanctuary is no small thing to ask of us," Mist said, though her expression softened slightly. "I would help you if I could, but my sisters—" 

"I know, you've vowed to stay out of it," he said, and he didn't care that he was pleading. He was never so prideful that he wouldn't get down on his knees, if that would get him what he needed. "But if you don't help us, we are all going to die. You say this isn't your fight, that this isn't the final battle, but if you keep waiting then there's not going to be anyone left to fight in your war, because they're all going to die in mine." 

Mist turned to look at what was left of the Resistance. They were mostly pitiful, and nearly powerless. She could feel strength but from a handful of them, and all were battle worn and weary. The Valkyries had to be careful not to tip the scales, to remain neutral, but these people were hardly warriors anymore. They were refugees. 

"I can take your people," she said, after a moment, turning back to him. "But I cannot take the Charmed Ones." 

"Mist—" Chris started. 

"It is not a negotiation," she snapped. "Those are my terms. Wyatt is searching for them, and might trace their power back to Valhalla. We cannot take that chance. We must remain neutral, or he will turn his attention to us." She looked at Phoebe with distaste. "In any case, they were banished from Valhalla years ago, and Valkyries do not go back on their word." 

Chris assessed the woman carefully. For all of Bianca's teasing, Chris knew he didn't have very much sway over Mist. She might do a little more for him than she would just anyone else, but she would never turn against her sisters. She would never betray them. 

He wasn't going to get any more than she was offering. 

"Agreed," he decided. "Just take the others, then." 

"Wyatt still knows nothing of who you are, Perry." Mist frowned, stepping closer to him. "Just because we cannot take the Charmed Ones does not mean that we cannot not take you." 

"Trust me," Chris said. "It does." 

"And do we get a say in any of this?" Marc demanded, where he stood in front of the other Resistance members. 

"Marc," Chris sighed. 

"If we lose you, this resistance falls apart anyway," Marc yelled. "We should stay and fight." 

"The Resistance is already over," Bianca said quietly. "We have fallen. That's what this is." 

"No, it's not, not as long as we have Perry," Marc insisted, stepping forward. Chris intercepted him, holding a hand to his chest. 

"This is the only way out," he said quietly. "And as long as I've at least managed to save all of you, I'll have the strength to continue to fight. But if I'm left alone with Wyatt, and all of you are dead, then I will truly be lost." 

Marc looked away angrily, one hand still on the edge of his athame, itching to fight. It wasn't in his nature to run and hide while others fought his battles for him, and he wanted vengeance for Gracie, for all the others they had lost, but he knew what he wanted didn't really matter in the long run. 

"Please, Marc, I'm counting on you," Chris said. "I need you to keep them safe." 

Marc nodded slightly, and then glanced behind him at the last survivors of their headquarters. There were maybe sixty, which meant at least a handful had been trapped outside the gymnasium, including Daniel. He tried not to think too much about that. 

"You heard him," Marc shouted. "Come on, guys. It's through the looking glass for us." 

Everyone started to trudge through the portal, and Mist glanced back over at Chris sadly. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I would take you if I could." 

"I understand," Chris said.

"He'll slaughter you all," Mist told him, stepping forward to delicately rest a hand against his cheek. "But I know you will die well." 

"You're not so much for the pep talks, are you?" Phoebe asked. "Look, lady, we'll be fine, okay? We'll find our own way out. Always do." 

Mist looked at Phoebe slyly, and let her hand drop away from Chris. "I was wrong," she decided. "You have not changed." 

Mist turned back to Chris once, and then followed the last of the fighters through the portal without another word. It disappeared just as she moved through it, leaving the room in almost total darkness, with the Halliwells and Bianca left alone.

"We're going to have fight him," Phoebe said. "Maybe, with all of us, together—" 

"No," Chris said, turning to watch worriedly as Paige tried to hold the barrier. "Nothing's changed. You still have to run." 

"What are you planning, Chris?" Bianca asked suspiciously. She could already see that he was putting something together, but she was having trouble making out his features in the dark. 

"Bianca, do you trust me?" he asked.

"Always," she answered instantly. 

"Then I need you to get them out of here," he told her. "No matter what happens, just make sure they get out." 

"Chris—" she started. 

"Don't worry," he assured her. "I'm not asking you to leave me behind. Not exactly." 

She assessed him carefully, and then gave a sharp nod. "Just tell me what you need me to do." 

 

X l X l X l X l X

Chris had taken his aunt's place at the doors. Paige was a few feet behind him, holding up the last tattered remains of the barrier against Wyatt, and Bianca was standing by to lead his family out. 

Which just left Chris to play the distraction. All he had to do was get Wyatt outside of the base's wards, because the blocks Wyatt had managed to create within the base to keep them from orbing out would fall the moment he was on the other side of the wards. The wards were still working and would block out his magic, giving Bianca a chance to shimmer everyone out. 

It was a simple plan, in theory. But Wyatt had a way of getting around other people's plans. 

"Are you sure about this?" Bianca called anxiously. 

"He can't catch me," Chris promised her. 

"And if he sees you?" she demanded. 

"Then he'll start looking for me, instead of my family," Chris told her, grateful that Paige was too distracted holding up the barriers to make any protests of her own. Phoebe and Henry looked disapproving but resolute; they knew they didn't have a better plan. Or any other plan, really. "This is the only way we can get them out of here. You know that." 

"Yeah, well, I don't have to like it," she snapped. "I can play Perry just as well as you, you know. I don't see why I can't be the distraction." 

"Because I have one very particular talent that you do not, and it's the only reason I'm not going to get caught," he reminded her. "This will work. I know it will." 

"Maybe," she said. "But even if it gets us out here, if he figures out you're all together again, or he realizes you're alive—" 

Chris glanced up as the walls began to shake, the barriers breaking under Wyatt's power. The sigils had all gone dark now, and Paige's barrier had been broken apart in so many places it looked as delicate as a spider's web.

"I'm going out the front, you take them out the back," he reminded her. "Wait for Wyatt's block to go down and then shimmer them all out." 

"I know my part. You just don't forget yours—you better come back to me," she said fiercely, rushing forward a moment to pull him down for a kiss. 

"Really, it'll sort of be like I never left," he said, flashing a grin as he turned and spun to head back to the doors. He pulled up his hood, tugging it down low over his eyes to hide his face. 

Heading towards Wyatt these days was always a bad idea—but then, Chris was known for them. It was kind of Halliwell trait, doing stupid, reckless things. 

He just hoped the family luck held, and he managed to pull it off. 

He glanced back once, just in time to see his family and Bianca disappearing out the back exit, and then the barrier gave, and the front doors slammed open with enough force that they came straight off the hinges. The doors clattered to the gymnasium floor in a hail of sparks, rushing straight past Chris on either side. 

And then there was Wyatt, standing right in front of him.

Chris felt his heart start working double time as he looked at his brother. He had seen his brother in a rage many times, but never quite like this. Power was glancing across his arms, little blue sparks that he couldn't contain. And he was missing that part of him that always held back, that restraint that had always been there when Chris was with him. 

"Perry," Wyatt snarled. 

Chris stumbled back a step, almost involuntarily, and reached to pull a small vile from his back pocket. Wyatt took a step towards him, and Chris knew better than to hesitate—he tossed the potion straight at Wyatt's feet, and his brother went flying back through the air. 

He was tossed back outside of the gymnasium, landing on his back about twenty feet away. Chris didn't wait for him to recover, he just took off out the doors and started running straight for the wards. 

Wyatt was back on his feet and running after him in a single breath, and Chris pushed ahead as fast as he could. He'd wanted to draw Wyatt away, so his plan was working, but he kind of hated it when his plans worked _too_ well. 

He reached up to grab the edge of his hood, keeping it in place. He wished he could glamour himself, but he couldn't use that kind of power at the moment, and in any case Wyatt would have probably seen right through it. 

He could hear his brother's feet pounding along the dirt behind him, and knew that Wyatt was only toying with him. He was drawing out the kill, playing games—Wyatt could have killed him a dozen ways by now, if that was all he wanted with Perry. 

Chris wasn't about to waste the advantage. Wyatt's overconfidence was always his only weakness—though it was rare that it could be exploited, since his overconfidence was generally warranted. 

But this time, at least, it was working to Chris's advantage that Wyatt wanted the thrill of the chase. He could see the wards just in front of him, if he could only manage to lead Wyatt outside them. 

The trouble with Wyatt was: he was never exactly known for his patience. 

Chris could feel the ground vibrating beneath his feet first, and then it began to splinter. He glanced back worriedly, to see the cracks in the earth rushing towards him. He stumbled, catching himself with one hand before pushing back to his feet and changing direction. 

His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran, and the change in direction had cost him some distance. He was further from the edge of the wards now, and the earth was literally breaking apart beneath his feet, chasing him as he ran.

Wyatt still stalked after him, eerily silent, and for some reason that was worse than anything. His brother's voice shouldn't still be comforting, but he could admit, at least to himself, that he missed it, and the silence was getting under his skin. 

He jumped as a particularly large crack appeared right in front of him, catching himself on his hands before dragging himself right back to his feet to keep running. He did a mental count of the distance to the wards, and guessed it was only ten feet ahead of him. He couldn't stop when he was this close, but the silence behind him continued to unnerve him. 

Wyatt obviously wasn't worried about him getting away, and that worried him. 

The wards were right in front of him now, but he didn't get to reach them. As he had suspected, Wyatt had been playing with him, letting him get the wards just within his reach before taking him down. Wyatt was suddenly right behind him, slamming into him, and they both hit the ground hard. 

They tumbled along the pavement as they fell, and Wyatt reached out to pull his hood down just as Chris managed to slip out of his hold. He pushed himself up, his eyes widening in fear, but it was too late. 

Wyatt had seen him. 

 

X l X l X l X l X

 

Wyatt had lost a little bit of his heart the day his mother died. It was just a little piece, gone within that threadbare space between the moment when he had a mother, and the moment when he did not. The realization had seeped deep inside him, twisting something that had already begun to coil inside of him just that little bit tighter. 

Two years later he had found his father torn to pieces, and it had been troubling just how little he had actually cared. But his heart had twisted and darkened so much further by then, little by little, until the only thing that mattered was power. 

And Chris. 

Now it all seemed for nothing, as he gasped desperately for air, staring at the figure in front of him. It couldn't be Chris, of course, because Chris was dead. Chris was dead and that was why he was here, that was why his blackened heart was even still beating—because this man had taken his brother, and Wyatt had every intention of killing him and getting his brother back. 

He wanted to scream and rage at this imposter for wearing his brother's face, but he couldn't pull himself away from those wide green eyes. How could he have gotten his brother's eyes that perfectly? How could he have—

Wyatt barely had a moment to try and comprehend what was going on, and Perry was using his distraction to push back to his feet and run right out of the wards. 

"No," Wyatt snarled, desperate, as he threw himself after him. He didn't even care that he was doing exactly what Perry wanted by moving past the wards, he just went, tackling him again on the other side, wrapping his hands in the back of his hoodie and sending them both to the ground. 

The man beneath him let out a muted cry of surprise, and it was his brother's voice. The voices were so hard to get right—Wyatt knew he hadn't done Gracie's justice, was just lucky that whitelighter had been too distracted to notice. Voices weren't like an image of a person, they had a sort of life of their own, something about the inflection—they weren't stolen easily. 

He roughly dragged Perry onto his back beneath him, and was immediately caught again by the eyes. He wanted to scream and yell and threaten, but when he finally spoke his voice sounded broken and it was not at all what he'd meant to say.

"Chris…" 

Wyatt wasn't like Chris, he was never all that great at lying. Not to other people, and not to himself. He never much saw the point in pretending. And he knew the truth now, couldn't deny it while looking it right in the eyes.

Because Chris was the piece that had been missing. 

Everything made sense if he went back and re-imagined it with Chris behind it all, arranging it from the start, putting on a show for everyone to see. It was why there was no body left behind and it was why Bianca was working with the man that killed his brother and it was why Perry was powerful enough to hide from him for three years without hardly a trace. 

He recalled suddenly the event that had started this, the day all of his prisoners had escaped. He'd nearly run into Chris around a corner in the hall, and his brother had been acting so strangely nervous. Wyatt hadn't thought about it then, but he'd been coming from the direction of the dungeons. Wyatt had never suspected him. Not even for a second. 

But it had been him. It had always been him. 

Chris had gone to help their family, he'd gone against him time and time again, he'd slipped out of his cell. He'd _broken their bond_ , and Wyatt should have known then, he should have realized just how far his brother was willing to go to get away.

Chris was Perry. 

Perry was Chris. 

The world he'd worked so very hard to tame no longer made any sense at all—and in that one terrible moment, Wyatt didn't know if he wanted to hug his brother, or call for Excalibur and run him through.

When Chris had severed their bond, he hadn't worried much. He had always known he could fix it. 

He didn't know if he could fix this. 

"Wy—" Chris whispered, and he sounded just like the last day he saw him: _Wy. Wy, I'm sorry…_

Wyatt felt something rising up inside of him, forcing its way out, and he let out a horrible sound of betrayal and rage that caused the air around him to explode. Chris went flying out of his hold, landing hard on his back a few feet away. Chris flipped himself over quickly, ready to jump right back to his feet. 

Wyatt almost wanted to laugh as he thought back to just moments before, of Chris using his shock to get the upper hand and force him outside of the wards. Everyone always underestimated Chris. Wyatt used to laugh about it with him, but it seemed he'd done it too. How long had Chris been laughing at _him_? 

"Were you ever on my side at all?" he asked roughly, as he stalked towards his brother. Chris was already on his feet, watching him with wide, wary eyes. He looked innocent and even younger than he was…harmless, was the word. Chris always looked so harmless. 

"I never stopped being on your side," Chris told him quietly. If Wyatt hadn't been sure, that would have done it. He could hear his brother in every word. His brother may have severed their connection, but some things were more powerful than magic, and a connection between brothers was in the blood. Chris could not take that from him, at least. 

"How can you say that to me?" Wyatt cried. "After what you've done! You're _Perry_! Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong, I _want you to_. I'll probably even believe you. Everyone always does." 

Chris stumbled away from him, taking a few steps back to try and maintain the distance between them, and Wyatt took malicious delight in the motion. He had always taken some comfort in the fact that Chris was the only one not scared of him, but that seemed like such a long time ago.

"There is no Perry," Chris whispered. 

"What was that?" Wyatt demanded, and Chris flinched. "Speak up." 

His brother's eyes narrowed, a bit of his old defiance making an appearance. "I told you before that Perry isn't a person," he explained. "He's just an idea." 

"Your idea," Wyatt snarled. 

"Yes," Chris agreed, and something in Wyatt snapped. 

Wyatt flicked out his hand and Chris let out a startled cry as he was forced down on his knees. He caught himself on his hands, and glanced up, glaring at Wyatt through the fringe on his too-long hair. 

"You've never been scared of me before," Wyatt said as he approached. 

"No," Chris answered. 

"But you are now," Wyatt said. 

"Yes." Chris's eyes pulled away from his then, as if to emphasize the point, though he shouldn't have bothered. His usually loquacious brother's stilted one-word answers were evidence enough: he wasn't just scared, he was terrified. 

"Good, because you should be." Wyatt reached out and grabbed his brother under the chin, forcing him to look up at him. "So say it. Say you're scared of me." 

"I'm scared of you," Chris told him. "But I'm not scared of what you'll do to me." 

"Even now?" Wyatt asked curiously. "Are you certain I won't hurt you? Because I have to be honest, I'm not quite certain of that myself." 

"I don't know whether or not you'll hurt me," he said. "I just know that more than anything else, I'm scared _for you_ , Wyatt." 

"It's a little late to start worrying about that now, Christopher," Wyatt snapped, and released his grip on his brother. "About three years too late, as a matter of fact." 

His brother looked away, but not before Wyatt caught the flash of pain in his eyes. At least Chris was ashamed of what he'd done, for whatever little that was worth. "I'm sorry—" he began. 

"You're not. Not yet," Wyatt sneered. "But you will be." 

Chris looked like he wanted to run, but Wyatt didn't release his mental grip. He kept his brother on his knees. 

"I would have given you anything," Wyatt said, and though his voice remained calm, the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate, the cracks in the earth from their earlier chase slipping a little closer. "I gave you everything." 

"I never asked you to give me anything," Chris said. 

Wyatt couldn't deny that was true. He had tried to give Chris so many things: more power, elaborate gifts, demons to play with, and his brother had never wanted any of it. And he had never asked for anything else. 

"How long?" Wyatt demanded 

Chris's eyes scrunched up in confusion, and the action was so familiar that it tore at the remains of Wyatt's heart. "What? You already know, you just—" 

"No, how long have you been against me?" Wyatt clarified sharply. 

"I'm not against you!" Chris insisted stubbornly. "I told you at the beginning that I believed in you, and I still do. I believe you have the potential to be the greatest force of good this world has ever seen. I just can't condone what you've done with it so far. I'm only trying to do the right thing, the thing that—" 

"The right thing?" Wyatt broke in with a snarl. "The right thing?! Do you have any idea at all what I've been through these last years? How could you do this to me?" 

"I never wanted to hurt you," Chris said quietly. "But I'd rather die than stand by and watch while you hurt everyone else. It doesn't leave me a lot of choices…it was you or me." He paused. "And I could never kill you." 

"So you chose to kill yourself instead," Wyatt concluded. It was artful, in a way, and so very Chris. If he couldn't beat something, he found a way around it. Wyatt just hadn't ever expected to be something his baby brother wanted to find a way around. 

"You spoke to my prophet," Wyatt realized suddenly. "You must have."

"Yes," Chris said. "She told me what she'd seen. Is that why you always acted like I didn't know how to defend myself?" 

"A mistake I won't make again, I can promise," Wyatt said. "I clearly didn't realize just how resourceful you really are. But if her vision hasn't yet come true, then it is still yet to come." 

"Do you still care?" he asked softly. 

"You think I shouldn't?" Wyatt asked, and moved to kneel down in front of his brother. "Tell me, do you still love me, Chris?" 

"You're my brother," Chris responded instantly. 

"Such a simple answer, but it really says it all, doesn't it?" he said. "You're my brother, too, you know. I won't kill you. Not even now." Wyatt paused, examining his brother closely. "I do plan to kill the rest of them."

Chris went pale, pushing himself up further on his knees, voluntarily moving closer to his brother for the first time since he'd found him again. "Wyatt, it's my fault. It has nothing to do with them!" 

"Maybe," Wyatt agreed. "But I can't really think of a better punishment for you than making you watch them die, one after another. So it's not exactly like I'm letting you off lightly."

"If you're angry at me, then—" Chris began to yell. 

"Then what?" Wyatt snarled, reaching out to snag Chris's sweater, twisting his hand in it so he could use it to pull him closer. "You go after everyone but me, but you expect me to take my anger out on you? Your little resistance was pathetic, Chris. They never even got close to me. But that's all making sense now: it's because you didn't want them to. You were never _after me_ in the first place." 

Chris flinched at the accusation, as though it was something to be ashamed of, the fact that he had never tried to kill his brother. Wyatt couldn't believe he had missed just how much his family had twisted Chris's beliefs. 

"You said it yourself—you can't kill me," Wyatt told him, his voice turning gentle. "So why do you keep expecting any less from me?" 

"You've gone after family for less than what I've done to you," Chris said. 

"You haven't done anything unforgivable yet. You ran from me, and that will be dealt with. But see, you're clever, Chris, always were. The aunts, they made a big statement that they wanted nothing to do with me, tried to gather the entire magical community against me. I have no choice but to kill them." 

"But I don't have to kill you. I can still save you." Wyatt lessoned his grip on his brother, his expression full of fondness and regret. "I can just kill _Perry_ , and no one ever has to know what you did." He paused. "Well, I can guarantee no one will know what you did, because I plan to kill anyone else involved." 

"It's not that simple, you can't just make this go away," Chris snapped, trying to twist out of his grip. "And I don't want you to!" 

"I don't care what you want," Wyatt sneered. "It's what I want!" 

Chris shook his head, looking so vulnerable that Wyatt wished he had kept it from getting this far. He should have made sure this never happened. His demons were right: he was always blind, when it came to Chris. But there was another truth about Wyatt. 

He never made the same mistake twice.

"I can't go back with you, Wyatt," Chris said resolutely. 

"You don't actually have a choice in that," Wyatt told him firmly. Chris just stared back at him, far too calm for the situation. It made Wyatt uneasy. "You're in enough trouble, you don't want to test me." 

Wyatt could see the hurt in his Chris's eyes, and when he started to look away to hide it, Wyatt reached out again, pulling him back. 

"I'll never forget this, but I can forgive you," Wyatt said, trying to reassure him, unable to handle his brother looking so broken, even now. "You were manipulated by our family, by that traitor…things were fine before they came back into our lives. But we'll have to start from scratch. I can't trust you, of course, and you'll need to be monitored, but eventually…" he sighed. "Someday, we will rule together again." 

"I'm done pretending, Wyatt," Chris said, and all the emotion seemed to have drained from his voice. He just sounded weary, and so much older than he was. "I can't do it anymore. Just…just kill me, okay? Just…" He pressed his eyes shut. "Just don't try to turn me into something I'm not." 

"Isn't that what you're trying to do to me?" Wyatt asked softly. 

"What?" Chris asked bemusedly, opening his eyes to look at Wyatt in surprise. 

"This is who I am, Chris," Wyatt said. "But it's not who you want me to be, so you're trying to change me into something else. How is that any different? What makes you right, and me wrong?" 

Chris gave a broken laugh, and pulled away from him. This time, Wyatt let him go, keeping a careful eye on him as he stumbled back to his feet. "You've always managed to use the truth better than I've ever been able to lie," he said. "I can't say you don't have a point there, Wy. But my side isn't the side that's destroying the world." 

"I haven’t destroyed anything," Wyatt insisted, as he stood himself, stepping forward to tower over his younger brother. "I'm the one that set us free. We don't have to hide anymore. You say you're sick of pretending? We spent our entire childhood pretending. Those bullies that used to give you trouble? You could have taken them all out with a flick of your hand, but you had to let them pound on you instead. Couldn't risk the cleaners. Couldn't risk getting found out. So we _pretended_. Day in. Day out." 

Wyatt stepped closer to his brother as he spoke, closing the distance between them. He didn't want another chase, and he had to be ready to grab him if he tried to run. Wyatt could pull him back from orbing, but Chris had always been quick on his feet. He'd been on the track team, once upon a time. 

"Revolution always comes with a cost," Wyatt explained gently. "And war always comes before peace. You gave up on me too soon, little brother. I just haven't finished yet." 

Chris's eyes snapped instantly to his, but instead of looking reassured, he looked worried. "What are you planning?" he demanded anxiously. 

"I'm going to bring this world together once and for all," he said. "I wanted you to be part of that, but I'll settle for you just being in it." 

Wyatt used Chris's distraction to step close enough to get a grip on him, tightening his hand around his upper arm. "I can forgive you," he said again, sure it was true. Even if this betrayal hurt more than anything else ever had, he still wasn't willing to give Chris up. "But I'm still going to have to punish you." 

"I know," Chris said, and reached out to place his hand over Wyatt's, firmly tugging it away from his arm. "But not today." 

Wyatt looked over at him curiously. "You really think I would let you go?" he asked. "Chris, I promise you, you're not going anywhere." 

"I'm sorry, but, Wyatt," he said, "I'm already gone." 

Wyatt frowned as he studied Chris carefully. There was still a hole deep inside him where his bond to Chris used to be, and at first he thought the reason he couldn't sense Chris at all was the absence of it. But he could sense nothing at all from him, he realized. Chris was a powerful witch in his own right, brother or not, and Wyatt should feel that power when it was standing right in front of him. 

"You're an astral projection," he realized sickly. 

His brother had never liked astral projection, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of it. He'd learned along with Wyatt, and he really should have expected this. It was nothing but an apparition in front of him. Chris's body was somewhere else, with the resistance, with _Paige_ , most likely, probably being pulled back behind the strongest wards that Halliwell magic could create. 

"I knew if I ran you'd probably catch me, but…I couldn't risk you actually catching me," Chris explained, unapologetically. "Whatever else you can say, I've certainly never underestimated you." 

It was a backhanded compliment, and Wyatt narrowed his eyes. "You were a distraction," he said, his eyes flashing angrily. "Where did the others go? Who was it? I know Paige was here, I felt her magic. Who else? Bianca? _Where are you_?"

"I don't actually know," Chris said calmly. "Thought it would be safer that way." 

"Do you really think that you can run from me?" Wyatt demanded. 

"I think that's about the only thing I can do," Chris said reasonably. "You haven't left me with any other choice." 

"You think I won't find you?" he asked, smirking dangerously. "I will tear this world apart to find you. I will slaughter every last member of your little resistance, every person you've ever spoken to, I will—" 

"Wyatt," Chris broke in, looking shaken. "This isn't…can you even hear yourself? This isn't what mom would have wanted for us." 

"Yeah, well, she's dead, so her opinion really doesn't count for all that much," Wyatt snapped. "I'm not going to let what happened to her happen to you." 

"Is this because of that stupid prophecy?" Chris asked. 

"I seriously doubt my prophetess would have been as fooled as I was by your little ruse," Wyatt said disdainfully, "which means those events are yet to happen, and I can still save you."

"And I can still save you," Chris countered. "That's what she told me, you know, that's what she said I'd do. I may not have figured out the how yet, but I will. That's why I had to leave, Wyatt. She told me what I was going to do." 

"She told me that you would die!" Wyatt snapped. 

"I'm willing to take that risk," Chris insisted. 

"I'm not!" Wyatt roared. "This is your last chance. Come home, now. Or I will show this world no mercy. You think you're going to run off to save people? Be the hero? I will kill a witch each and every single day you don't return to me. I'll give you a pass for today, since I already killed two of your friends, but that only gives you until midnight." 

Chris looked like he he'd been slapped, and a few years ago, Wyatt might have regretted it. It felt right, now, to have Chris looking at him like that. If he couldn't have his brother's loyalty, he would settle for his fear. 

"They _were_ friends, right?" Wyatt asked, conversationally. "The fiery redhead and the whitelighter? Well, you know, I'm not being entirely honest with you, Chris, Gracie was actually still alive when I left her. Though I can't imagine there's much of her mind left." 

"How can you—" Chris started, tears gathering in his eyes. "One minute you just sound like my brother, and then you say something like that. You can't just do things like that, Wyatt! They're innocents! We're meant to protect them!" 

"They are nothing, and they were in my way!" Wyatt yelled. "And I will kill every last one of them, if I have to." 

Chris stared back at him, but Wyatt wasn't getting the reaction that he wanted. Chris wasn't telling him what he wanted to hear, or backtracking, or giving in—instead his brother's fear was giving way to something else. Something Wyatt didn't quite recognize. 

"We both know I can't stop you," Chris said finally. "But it's not going to work." 

"What isn't?" Wyatt asked. 

"You don't control me anymore," he said firmly, as he titled his eyes up to meet his brother's, and all trace of tears were gone. He looked resolute. Sometime in the years they'd been apart, Chris had gone from being a boy to being a man. "And I am going to save you, whether you want me to or not." 

Then his brother was gone, and somehow it hurt just as much as when he'd watched him get pulled away with a knife in his chest.


End file.
